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frill  I  1IHM  i.rtWiftwmi'iarwi  J  U>Mtti*wwBmnwMJ  &HH 


(F>  iil'r 

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Date  rec 

No.   i 


>J 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


II  all 

Lhe 

lature, o  dii. 

If  air.  r  tail  to  return  any  hook  uiKt-11  mnn  mr  utxxn  iv, 

!  pay  t'>  the  Librarian,  f<>r  the  benefit  of  the  Library, 

three  timi  and  before  the  Controller  shall  issue  his 

nt  in  favor  <'f  any  member  i>r  orficei  <>f  the  Legislature,  or  of  this 

.  for  his  jier  diem,  allowance,  or  salary,  he  shall  be  satisfied  that 

returned  ;ill  books  taken  out  of  the  Library  by 

him,  tod  has  settled  all  accounts  f"r  injuring  such  books  or  otherwise. 

15.      Bo  ikt  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  the  members  of  the 

icers  during  the  session  of  the  same,  and  at  any 

time  by  1 !  mor  and  the  if  the  Executive  department  of 

p  their'  if  government, 

the  Ji.  Supreme  Court,  th  leneral  and  the  Trustees 

of  the  Library. 


x 


J^ 


Gold  and  Dross. 


BY 

EDWARD  GARRETT, 

AUTHOR    OF    "  CROOKED     PLACES,"    "  OCCUPATIONS    OF ,  A     RE- 
TIRED LIFE,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK : 

DODD  &  MEAD,  PUBLISHERS, 

762   BROADWAY. 

1874. 


p 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

A  Family  Circle  in  Bloomsbury.  ...       7 

CHAPTER  II. 
Out  of  Tune.  ...-•••     T° 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Salt  of  the  Earth 32 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  Portrait  and  a  Puzzle 50 

CHAPTER  V. 
"Fair  and  Honorable."  .         .         .         .Go 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Poor  Dora 69 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Sweet  Sibyl 80 


o^O/m^O  « Jl  O 


IV 


i  \I'I  ER   VIII. 
The  N  \n.  on   mi:  Floor,        .        .        .        .    85 

(    I  I  \  I '  I  I  K    IX. 

What  Next?  .        •        •        •        •        .        .101 

CHAPTER  X. 
V  Gentleman  at  Large.         .        .        .        .111 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Three  Love  Storu 127 

CHAPTER  XII. 

1  1    ..  '.    S  I  URS.     . 143 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Mr.  Capel's  Walk.  .....   158 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Ends  and  Beginnings 169 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Divi  rging  Paths 179 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Knight-Errantry  in  1S00 191 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
'•  I\  all  Time  of  our  Tribulatiox."     .        .  203 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAGE 

Spilt  Salt 222 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Too  Late 232 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Left  Letters 240 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Darkness. 256 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Dreams  and  Awakenings.        .         .         .         .267 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  Patent  and  a  Flute.  ...         -  277 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
The  Day  of  Thanksgiving 291 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Conclusion 301 


-»« 


■^       ,,,,, 


IV  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

The  Nail  on  the  Floor 85 

CHAPTER  IX. 
What  Next? 101 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  Gentleman  at  Large.         .         .         .         .111 

CHAPTER  XL 
Three  Love  Stories 127 

CHAPTER  XII. 
L7own  Stairs 143 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Mr.  Capel's  Walk. 158 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Ends  and  Beginnings.     .....   169 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Diverginc  Paths 179 

CHAPTER  XV L 
Knight-Errantry  in   1S00 191 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
"  In  all  Time  of  our  Tribulation."     .         .  203 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

TAGE 

Spilt  Salt 222 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Too  Late. 232 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Left  Letters.  .......  240 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Darkness. 256 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Dreams  and  Awakenings.        .         .         .         .  267 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  Patent  and  a  Flute.  .         .         .         -  277 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
The  Day  of  Thanksgiving 291 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Conclusion. 3QI 


Gold  and  Dross. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A  FAMILY   CIRCLE   IN    BLOOMSBURY. 


T  was  four  o'clock  on  an  autumn  afternoon 
at  the  Great  Northern  Terminus.  A  train 
had  just  come  in  from  the  Midlands,  and 
crowds  of  bewildered  people  were  exchang- 
ing hurried  kisses  and  greetings,  and  then  suspending 
civilities  to  hover  excitedly  over  confused  heaps  of 
luggage. 

But  in  the  crowd  there  was  one  (doubtless  there 
were  many  !)  for  whom  nobody  was  waiting.  There 
was  nobody  to  distract  his  attention,  as  he  disen- 
tangled a  trunk  and  a  portmanteau  from  the  mass, 
and  secured  a  cab  for  their  removal.  He  had  never 
been  in  London  before,  and  he  looked  curiously  to 
the  right  and  to  the  left,  as  he  drove  from  the  station. 
His  first  glimpse  was  of  a  very  draggled  skirt  of  the 
mighty  Queen  city.  Streams  of  meager  people 
poured  down  interminable  shabby  streets  that  opened 


8  GO  1. 1)   AND    DROSS. 

into  still  shabbier  alleys,  and  about  all  hung  a  dread- 
ful sense  of  struggle — of  life  forced  to  live  on,  after 
all  beauty  and  hope  were  beaten  out  of  it.  How  can 
anybody  who  does  not  believe  in  a  just  and  merciful 
God  bear  to  live  in  London !  Yet  in  the  engine- 
shriek  through  those  sordid  suburbs,  our  young 
traveller  could  hear  a  modern  version  of  the  old 
promise  which  "  Bow  Bells"  sang  to  Dick  Whittir.gton 
in  the  twilight  on  the  pleasant  old  Highgate  coach- 
road.  There  is  vitality  in  the  ancient  legend  yet. 
Dick  is  immortal.  He  comes  up  from  the  country  in 
every  train ! 

Our  traveller,  Philip  Lewis,  was  no  mere  boy. 
He  was  more  than  four  and  twenty — a  well-doing 
energetic  young  man,  who  had  his  own  way  to  make, 
and  was  not  afraid  of  the  task.  He  was  "  the  only 
son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow,"  with  an 
income  so  narrow  that  she  had  nothing  to  spare  for 
ornament,  even  in  her  boy's  education.  Philip  had 
not  learned  Latin  or  German  till  he  paid  the  fees  of 
an  evening  class  from  his  first  earnings  in  an  archi- 
tect's office.  And  now  he  had  come  to  try  his  fortune 
in  London,  a  well-educated  well-appointed  young 
man,  owing  little  to  any  one  but  himself,  and  with  a 
bright  belief  that  few  enjoyed  better  chances  or 
greater  blessings  than  he — a  pleasant  faith  whence 
he  derived  that  air  of  prosperous  activity  which 
promises  so  much,  though  it  has  its  own  bitter  lessons 
to  learn,  and  its  own  peculiar  trials  to  undergo. 

The  cab  suddenly  stopped  between  a  row  of  high 


A    FAMILY    CIRCLE    IN    BLOOMSBTRY.  9 

gloomy  houses,  and  a  dead  wall  overhung  by  skeleton 
trees.  One  hall  door  stood  open,  and  a  glow  of  cheer- 
ful light  came  over  the  black  greasy  pavement.  There 
was  a  girl  on  the  steps  with  her  left  hand  raised  to 
secure  a  jaunty  cap  that  was  very  much  inclined  to  fly 
away  in  the  bleak  east  wind. 

"  Is  it  here  you're  wanting  ?  "  she  asked,  rather 
vaguely,  as  the  cab  drew  up. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Capel's  ;  "  said  Philip,  already  tugging 
at  his  boxes.  The  girl  was  by  his  side  in  a  moment, 
offering  her  assistance.  "  There's  been  cabs  for  next 
door  a-drivin  up  every  half  hour  this  evening,  sir,"  she 
said,  in  apparent  apology  for  her  question.  "  I've  been 
in  and  out  ten  times  if  I've  been  once.  'Cause 
strangers  as  don't  know  the  window-curtains,  is  often 
ever  so  long  in  finding  out  the  numbers  hereabouts. 
Don't  you  carry  in  nothin'  yourself,  sir.  Me  and  the 
cabby  will  do  it  all,  sir." 

It  was  a  well-lit  hall  which  Philip  entered, — hand- 
some too,  though  the  oil-cloth  had  nearly  lost  its  pat- 
tern, and  the  Slab  and  chairs  were  very  old-fashioned. 
A  lady  stepped  forward  to  welcome  him. 

"  My  father  has  been  unexpectedly  called  from 
home  this  evening,"  she  said,  "  but  the  maid  will  take 
your  trunks  to  your  room,  and  we  have  tea  quite  ready. 
You  must  be  tired  after  your  journey." 

The  lady  was   at  least  thirty  years  of  age.     But 

her  voice  was  so  tirmdly  sweet  and  her  blue  eyes  so 

softly  kind  that  Philip  was  quite  nonplused.     He  was 

not  used  to  women,  except  his  own  mother,  who  stood 

i* 


IO  cni. I)    AND    I.ROSS. 


five  feet  nine  inches  and  spoke  bass.  So  he  mut- 
tere  iting  thanks  and  was   led  to  his  chamber, 

whence  he  presently  returned  to  the  parlor. 

It  was  a  plain  square  apartment,  lit  by  one  small 
lamp,  with  a  green  shade,  which  gave  out  a  mysterious 
twilight,  so  that,  at  first,  Philip  could  scarcely  discern 
how  many  people  were  in  the  room.  One  stood  mani- 
fold, in  the  flush  of  the  glorious  fire.  This  was  a  girl 
of  about  twenty-two,  with  a  broad  forehead  and  an 
apple-blossom  complexion,  cheerily  contrasting  with 
her  dark  blue  dress.  She  was  measuring  tea  out  of 
the  caddy,  but  she  looked  up  with  a  ready  smile  and 
was  introduced  by  Miss  Capel,  as  "  my  youngest  sister, 
Hester." 

In  the  shadows  over  the  sofa,  Philip  made  out 
another  figure.  It  only  half  rose  to  greet  him,  while 
the  face  shone  out  of  the  gloom  with  almost  spectral 
whiteness.  It  was  a  face  with  great  dark  blue  eyes, 
set  deep  beneath  delicately-marked  brows,  and  was  all 
too  weird  and  grave  for  the  almost  childish  form ; 
so  that  it  made  a  discord  with  the  sunny  tone  in 
which  the  hostess  named  "  Our  cousin,  Dora  Cunning- 
ham." 

"  And  you  have  never  been  in  London  before,  Mr. 
Lewis,"  observed  Miss  Capel,  kindly  anxious  to  make 
conversation  for  the  stranger. 

"  Never,"  answered  Philip. 

"  What  shall  you  go  to  see,  first  ?  "  asked  Hester. 

"  The  new  Houses  of  Parliament,"  Philip  answered 
promptly,  for  he  had  his  mind   quite  made  up  on  that 


A    FAMILY    CIRCLE    IK    BLOOMSBURY.  II 


point,  and  added,  "  as  the  old  Abbey  is    down    that 
way,  I  shall  be  able  to  take  it  in  at  the  same  time." 

"  The  Abbey  is  worth  a  visit  to  itself,"  said  Dora, 
with  an  emphasis  which  Hester  Capel  seemed  to  under- 
stand,  for   she   looked    up,    and   smiled,   half  slily. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Philip  assented,  innocently. 
"  But  still  abbeys  are  abbeys,  and  when  youve  seen 
one,  you've  seen  nearly  all.  I've  seen  York  Minster, 
and  Beverley  Minster,  and  I  went  over  St.  Mungo's, 
Glasgow,  when  I  was  there  about  the  Water  Company's 
new  offices." 

"  But  Westminster  Abbey  has  such  association — 
for  anybody  who  cares  for  such  things,"  said  Dora. 

"I  suppose  so,"  Philip  responded;  "but,  really, 
not  being  a  native,  I  scarcely  know  who  is  buried 
there — except  all  the  old  royalties." 

"  Nearly  all  the  kings  and  queens — but  not  Oliver 
Cromwell,"  said  Hetty,  drily.  "  Some  very  genteel 
poets, — but  not  Shakespeare  nor  Milton." 

"  Fine  monuments  ? "  asked  Philip,  who  could 
scarcely  be  expected  to  recognize  satire,  never  having 
met  it  before. 

"  Very,"  returned  Hester,  demurely ;  "  elaborate 
sepulchers  in  every  shade  of  whitedness." 

"The  Abbey  itself  is  a  monument  of  Britain's 
glory  and  greatness,"  said  Dora,  impatiently. 

"You  would  like  to  be  buried  there  yourself, 
wouldn't  you  Dora  ?  "  asked  Hester,  laughing. 

"You  have  no  veneration  in  you,  cousin,"  said  the 
girl,  with  an  irritable  movement. 


12  GOLD   AND    I 'ROSS. 


••  Not  for  Congreve,  nor  yet  for  Cowley,"  she  re- 
torted, "  nor  very  much  for  any  honors  which  they 
share.  I'd  count  it  a  better  thing  to  be  buried  near 
Bunyan  in  Bunhill  fields." 

"  You  see,  I  am  interested  in  the  new  houses  of 
Parliament  in  a  professional  light — as  an  architect, 
observed  Philip. 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  responded  Hester. 

"  Yet  I  should  think  that  in  yours,  as  in  every  pro- 
fession, the  present  is  so  barren,  that  it  is  scarcely  a 
profitable  study,"  said  Dora. 

"  Mr.  Lewis  has  a  bit  of  the  present  for  himself  to 
make  fruitful,"  hinted  Hetty. 

"  Modern  buildings  are  not  like  the  grand  old 
classic  models,"  Philip  admitted  ;  but  then  those  are 
not  all  that  are  wanted  now.  They  don't  fulfil  every 
modern  requirement." 

"  Only  it  is  a  pity  we  don't  have  something  as 
good  in  its  way,  which  does,"  sighed  Hetty,  in  an  un- 
dertone. 

"  Taste  is  dead  in  England  at  the  present  date," 
said  Dora,  dogmatically,  "  being  chiefly  patriotic  to- 
wards ruins  and  dead  dust." 

"  1  don't  know  that,"  Philip  answered,  quite  briskly. 
"  I  wouldn't  say  so.  It  has  been  said  too  often  al- 
ready, till  it  has  bullied  our  people  out  of  their  com- 
mon sense,  which  is  the  best  part  of  taste  after  all.  It 
bullies  them  into  all  sor.ts  of  copies,  unsuited  to  Eng- 
lish habits  or  atmosphere.     For  my  own  part,  I'm  a 


A    FAMILY    CIRCLE    IN    BLOOMSBURY.  1 3 

great  believer  in  the  Elizabethan  style.  That  was  an 
era  when  most  things  were  done  well." 

"  I  suppose  commonplace  must  be  commonplace," 
said  Dora,  who  had  been  following  her  own  thoughts 
rather  than  Philip's:  "  One  can't  give  a  new  villa  the 
interest  and  romance  that  hang  around  an  old  feudal 
castle.  But  the  utilitarian  spirit  seems  determined  to 
tread  out  even  the  old  traces.  If  people  would  only 
pause  somewhere  in  their  changes  !  "  and  she  broke 
off  with  a  sigh. 

"  Set  the  example  yourself,  said  Hetty,  mischievous- 
ly, "  Have  your  next  dress  made  after  the  cut  of  the 
old  one.     Tin  sure  the  last  fashion  was  the  prettiest." 

Dora's  face  flushed  a  little,  but  otherwise  she 
ignored  the  utterance  of  such  frivolity. 

"  Modern  life  is  petty,"  she  said.  "  All  bricks  and 
mortar,  and  engines  and  money.  No  space  or  time 
for  tragedy  or  romance." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Hetty  asked,  quietly.  "I 
think  that  wherever  a  human  being  can  live  at  all? 
there  is  room  for  both,  if  we  only  have  eyes  to  see,  and 
hearts  to  understand  !  " 

"Shall  I  bring  in  the  supper,  ma'am?"  asked  a 
subdued  voice  from  outside. 

"  If  you  please,  Mrs.  Edwards,"  said  Miss  Capel, 
folding  away  her  work.  "  Popps  will  be  late  at  chapel 
to-night,  because  there  is  a  special  prayer-meeting 
after  the  service." 

Philip  turned  to  look  at  the  new  arrival  on  the  do- 
mestic scene.    Only  a  charwoman,  he  concluded  right- 


14  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

ly.  A  tall  thin  woman,  who  somehow  looked  as  if  she 
ought  to  have  been  stout  and  comely.  Very  shabby, 
with  a  downcast  broken-hearted  face,  and  eyes  that 
kept  to  the  table-cloth  as  she  set  the  plates  and  dishes. 

Then  aloud  double  knock  called  her  away  to  open 
the  hall  door.  There  was  no  sound  of  voices  in  the 
passage — the  new  comer  swept  straight  on  to  the  par- 
lor, and  as  the  door  opened,  Miss  Capel  said  : 

"  This  is  my  sister  Sibyl.1' 

Not  a  bit  like  the  others,  thought  Philip.  In  quite 
a  different  style.  The  manner  of  her  dress  might  have 
something  to  do  with  the  difference,  though  it  was 
simple  enough.  Just  a  black  silk  robe,  sweeping  long 
on  the  floor,  a  soft  white  burnous  folded  round  the 
slender  arrow-like  figure,  and  a  spray  of  scarlet  ge- 
ranium set  against  the  heavy  coils  of  black  hair  which 
crowned  the  small  high  head.  Not  a  broad  wise- 
like head,  like  Hetty's.  But  what  young  man  criti- 
cizes a  head  which  has  a  face  like  Sibyl  Capel's? 
"  She's  a  downright  beauty,"  said  Philip  to  himself. 
And  so  she  was,  as  far  as  perfect  Greek  features  can 
make  one.  You  could  not  see  the  soul  that  looked 
through  those  quick  dark  eyes.  The  lashes  might 
be  longer  than  Hetty's,  and  the  brow  more  clearly 
arched,  but  the  eyes  were  like  those  windows  where 
those  within  can  watch  unseen.  She  crossed  the  room 
to  the  fireplace,  and  stood  on  the  rug,  drawing  off 
dainty  lilac  gloves.  She  had  very  white  hands,  and 
wore  two  or  three  rings,  adornments  which  neither  of 
her  sisters  boasted.     Then  she  let  the  burnous  grad- 


A    FAMILY    CIRCLE    IN    BLOOMSBURY.  15 

ually  fall  about  her,  and  out  peeped  a  pair  of  snowy 
shoulders,  set  off  by  a  pelerine,  which,  had  Philip  been 
a  judge,  he  would    have  known  to  be  both  old  and 

costly. 

"  Where's  papa  ?  "  asked  the  eldest  sister. 

"  Just  as  our  cab  stopped,  Mr.  Drew  and  Mr. 
Drake  came  up  and  they  were  off  to  supper  at  some 
hotel,  and  he  joined  them.  So  I  should  say,  you  need 
not  expect  him  just  yet." 

She  said  these  last  words  with  a  meaning,   and  . 
laughed    shortly  and  lightly.     Neither  of  her  sisters 
responded.     It  seemed  almost   as  if  they  caught  in 
their  breath,  perhaps  lest  it  should  be  a  sigh. 

"  So  ho  !  "  thought  Philip,  "  I  begin  to  understand 
how  it  is,  that  I  have  my  present  appointment  and  my 
prospective  partnership  on  such  favorable  terms.  It  is 
no  steady  professional  fogy  who  leaves  his  daughter 
on  the  door-step  and  goes  off  unexpectedly  to  an  im- 
promptu conviviality  at  a  public  house  !  " 

And  now  Sibyl  was  by  the  sofa,  bending  over  her 
cousin,  stroking  her  soft  brown  hair  and  cooing,  "  Dar- 
ling, have  they  utterly  neglected  and  ill-used  you  ? 
Have  you  had  any  tea  ?  Have  you  had  any  supper  ? 
Dear  me,  has  my  place  been  so  well  supplied  that  you 
have  never  missed  me?  Well,  at  least  I  know  they 
have  not  played  to  you.  That's  one  office  they  can't 
take  away  from  poor  Sibyl.  Come  into  the  drawing- 
room,  my  darling,  and  I'll  play  you  such  a  beautiful 
bit  out  of  our  concert  to-night." 

And  the  wayward  invalid  girl  (she  had  only  recent- 


l6  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

ly  recovered  from  a  severe  illness,)  draped  her  preco- 
cious gravity  and  smiled  up  in  the  beauty's  face  like  a 
spoiled  child. 

"  It's  too  cold  in  the  drawing-room,"  warned  Miss 
Capel ;  "  there  has  been  no  fire  there  to-day,  and  it 
is  a  clamp  miserable  night,  and  Dora  has  been  sitting 
in  the  glow  of  this  hearth  all  the  evening. 

"  Oh,  come  away,  my  treasure  !  "  said  Sibyl,  draw- 
ing the  thin  little  hand  through  her  arm,  and  accom- 
modating her  swift,  stately  pace  to  the  slow  movement 
of  Dora's  weakness.  "It  won't  hurt  her,  Elizabeth. 
The  music  is  ringing  in  my  head,  and  will  be  all  gone 
to-morrow  if  I  don't  get  it  out  of  my  fingers  to-night." 
And  she  led  Dora  away — a  very  willing  captive. 

Philip  presently  made  his  excuses  and  retired  to 
his  own  room.  He  met  the  downcast  charwoman  in 
the  passage,  ready  dressed  for  her  homeward  walk  ; 
and  as  he  climbed  the  stairs  he  heard  sweet  sounds 
issuing  from  the  front  room  on  the  first  floor.  Tl  e 
Capels  evidently  possessed  a  good  piano,  and  Sibyl 
a  voice  something  more  than  to  match.  He  paused 
to  listen  for  a  moment  and  then  went  on,  thinking  to 
himself  that  he  would  have  a  rare  treat  some  evening. 

Tired  as  he  was,  Philip  Lewis  kneeled  clown  and 
prayed  God  to  bless  and  keep  his  mother  and  all 
friends  at  home,  and  to  watch  over  and  prosper  him 
in  London,  so  that  he  might  rejoice  his  parent's  heart 
.n  her  old  age,  and  do  credit  to  all  the  sacrifices  she 
had  made  for  him  in  his  youth. 

He  was  asleep  as  soon  as  his  head  touched  the 


A    FAMILY    CIRCLE    IN    BLOOMSBURY.  1 7 

pillow.  What  did  it  matter  to  him  that  Elizabeth  and 
Hester  Capel  looked  into  the  drawing-room  on  their 
way  to  their  own  chamber,  and  that  Sibyl  whirled 
round  on  her  music  stool,  and  said : 

"  Isn't  he  a  country  bumpkin !  " 

"  I  think  there  is  something  in  him  that  has  never 
come  yet,"  said  the  little  sentimental  Dora,  "perhaps 
he  has  had  no  chance." 

"  I  believe  he  thinks  he  can  roll  the  world  before 
him  !  "  laughed  Hester,  "  and  forgets  that  somebody 
else  may  be  rolling  it  the  other  way." 

"  How  all  you  children  talk  !  "  said  Elizabeth.  "  I'm 
-  sure  he  seems  a  very  pleasant  young  gentleman." 

And  they  each  went  their  ways.  In  a  little  closet 
Dora  read  the  Litany  to  herself  with  many  an  intona- 
tion. She  herself  heard  more  of  her  prayer  than  God 
did,  since  he  only  hears  what  comes  from  the  heart. 
And  Sibyl  went  to  her  room — she  had  one  to  herself 
— and  when  she  had  locked  the  door  she  drew  from 
her  pocket  a  note  not  sealed,  but  intricately  folded  ; 
a  note  penciled  on  a  page  torn  from  a  gilt-leaved 
diary.  And  she  read  it,  and  laughed  triumphantly  in 
the  face  of  the  glorious  reflection  that  smiled  back 
from  her  mirror — and  then  read  it  again — and  then 
went  to  bed,  and  never  noticed  that  she  absolutely 
forgot  even  to  kneel  for  a  form  of  prayer.  And  Eliz- 
abeth and  Hester  went  to  their  room  and  read  a 
chapter,  verse  about,  and  kneeled  down,  one  at  each 
side  of  the  little  white  bed,  where  half  an  hour  after 
they  were  asleep  in  each  other's  arms. 


CHAPTER  II. 


OUT   OF    TUNE. 


HILIP  LEWIS  woke  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  feared  to  compose  himself  to  sleep 
again,  lest  he  should  sleep  too  long,  being 
one  of  those  really  estimable  people  who 
think  it  a  brand  of  shame  to  saunter  down  late  upon 
a  breakfast  party.  He  heard  one  or  two  steps  upon 
the  stairs — one  particularly  energetic  which  he 
instantly  connected  with  tawny-locked,  chapel-going 
Popps,  but  beyond  these,  the  house  continued  so 
quiet,  that  Philip  thought  there  must  be  some  mistake, 
and  ventured  down  unsummoned.  A  smell  of  toast 
and  tea  met  him  from  the  dining-room,  and  entering 
that  apartment  he  found  Miss  Capel  seated  behind 
the  urn,  and  Hester  arranging  breakfast  parapherna- 
lia on  two  small  trays. 

"  We  were  going  to  send  up  your  breakfast.  We 
thought  you  might  not  care  to  rise  early  this  morn- 
ing," explained  the  hostess. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  ma'am,"  Philip  answered, 
primly.  "I  was  only  fearful  lest  I  was  late.  It  is 
nearly  nine  o'clock." 


OUT    OF    TUNE.  19 


"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Popps,  bouncing  into 
the  room.  "Is  this  the  master's  tray?"  and  she 
seized  one  bearing  a  huge  cup  of  black  coffee,  flanked 
by  a  tiny  fragment  of  delicate  brown  toast,  unbuttered. 
And  Popps  disappeared. 

To  Philip  it  seemed  an  oddly  free  and  easy 
household.  Fancy  his  mother's  decorous  serving- 
damsel  saluting  a  guest  in  the  middle  of  a  meal!  It 
rather  perplexed  him.  He  had  always  moved  by  rule, 
and  he  felt  like  a  child  with  its  leading-string 
suddenly  taken  away.  And  where  was  Sibyl  ?  And 
Dora  ?  And  did  "  the  master"  always  breakfast  in 
bed? 

"  What  is  your  servant's  name  ?  "  he  asked  ;  "  you 
call  her  something  which  sounds  very  droll." 

"  Popps,"  answered  Hester,  laughing.     "  It  is  her 


surname." 


"  I  suppose  the  other  is  Julia  Maria,  or  Evelina, 
or  some  other  incongruous  mouthful,"  said  Philip. 

"No,  indeed!"  replied  Miss  Capel.  "It  is  just 
my  own  simple  name — Elizabeth." 

"The  best  name  in  all  the  world  !  "  said  Hetty  : 
"but  we  just  keep  to  Popps  to  save  any  confusion." 

"You  might  call  her  Bessie  or  Betty;  it  makes 
quite  a  different  name,"  remarked  Philip. 

"  But  then  my  sister  is  Elizabeth  to  most  people, 
Lizzie  to  us,  and  Bessie  to  her  father,"  returned  Hes- 
ter. "  Dear  me,  Lizzie,  wouldn't  it  be  funny  if  you 
were  only  Elizabeth  to  everybody.  I  never  call  you 
Elizabeth,  except  when  we  are  quarreling,  do  I,  Liz- 


20  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


zie  r  And  then  you  call  me  Hester,  and  that  is  the 
extent  of  oui  hostilities.  When  you  call  me  Hester 
I  begin  to  take  notice  what  I  am  about,  and  grow 
particularly  civil.  I  wonder  what  you'd  do  next,  if  I 
didn't,  Lizzie.     I'm  half  a  mind  I'll  try  next  time." 

Then,  in  came  Sibyl,  arrayed  in  a  bright-hued 
loose  breakfast-gown,  with  enticing  little  ruffs  at  the 
throat  and  wrists.  She  gave  quite  an  air  of  distinc- 
tion to  the  whole  table,  and  made  her  sisters  look 
positively  shabby  in  their  carefully-preserved  brown 
alpacas.  There  was  considerable  graciousness  in  her 
"  Good-morning"  to  Philip,  for  there  was  no  unread 
note  in  her  pocket  now,  and  there  could  be  no  ex- 
citement of  any  sort  for  hours,  unless  she  extracted 
some  from  "  the  country  bumpkin." 

Dora  appeared  just  as  everybody  else  had  finished 
their  meal,  and  as  soon  as  she  had  poured  out  her  tea, 
Miss  Capel  left  the  table  and  Hester  presently  follow- 
ed her.  The  other  three  lingered  long,  having  found 
a  mutually  agreeable  topic  in  music.  Philip  had  at- 
tended a  singing-class,  and  had  heard  a  great  deal  of 
fine  melody  murdered  at  provincial  concerts,  but  also 
he  had  never  lost  an  opportunity  to  improve  his  taste 
during  his  brief  professional  visits  to  great  towns. 
Towards  music  he  had  a  yearning  that  could  not  be 
content  only  to  admire.  He  possessed  a  flute  and  a 
concertina,  which  no  mortal  eyes  but  their  makers' 
and  his  own  ever  beheld,  since  he  had  never  "  tried  " 
them  anywhere  but  in  his  empty  office,  before  and 
after  business  hours.      He  was  but  a  plain-minded 


OUT   OF   TUNE.  21 


practical  young  man,  who   never  felt   any  particular 
inclination  to  open  a  novel  or  read  a  poem,  but  this 
only  made  it  the  more  touching  to  think  how  long- 
ingly and  blindly  and  fruitlessly  he  strove  to  utter  the 
song  that  lay  muffled  in  him  :  how  he  would  linger  to 
listen  to  a  barrel-organ  in  the  village,   and   how  he 
strove  to  pick  up  hints  from   the  one  or  two  piano- 
playing  families  with  whom  his  own  exchanged  visits. 
It  was  his  one  glimpse  of  the  ideal :  the  only  spot  in 
his  soul  unguarded  by  armor  of  matter-of-fact.     There, 
he  felt  a  pleasant  pain  that  never  troubled  the  rest 
of  his  unintrospective  nature.    He  himself  half  shame- 
facedly called  it  his  "  weak  point,"  but  it  is  through 
such  weak  points  that  the  arrows  enter,   which  prick 
our  souls  away  from  their  fetters  of  the  earth,  earthy. 
Sibyl  was  acknowledged  to  be  "  musical."     She 
had  made  her  first  teacher's  life  burdensome  by  cry- 
ing and  storming,  till  books  were  put  away  and  the  piano 
opened.     She   had  enjoyed  the  best  instruction  and 
every  opportunity  and  advantage  for  the  cultivation  of 
her  decided  talent.     Her  whole  education,  such  as  it 
was,  had  converged  around  that  point.     Then  she  had 
heard  almost  every  musical  celebrity  in  almost  every 
musical  masterpiece,  and  Philip  listened  with  respect- 
ful awe  to  her  glib  criticisms  which  came  second-hand 
from  her  pretty  mouth  as  smartly  as  if  they  were  ori- 
ginal.    And  an  hour's  conversation  between  the  three 
(during  which  Popps  peeped  in  several  times  to  re- 
move the  tray,  but  found  Miss  Sibyl  still  toying  with 
a  half-empty  cup),  ended  in  their  adjournment  to  the 


2  2  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


drawing-room  to  hear  a  "  Reverie  "  which  the  young 
lady  announced  to  be  "  near  perfection." 

She  was  in  the  midst  of  her  performance,  Philip 
standing  in  dumb  admiration,  losing  the  place  in  her 
rapid  manipulation,  and  so  not  daring  to  turn  the  page, 
and  Dora,  lying  back  in  the  great  easy  chair,  with  her 
earnest  blue  eyes  gazing  as  if  she  saw  the  very  soul  of 
the  sweet,  sad  melody,  when  Mr.  Capel  himself  enter- 
ed. He  was  beginning  to  speak  crossly  till  he  saw 
Philip,  whose  keen  sense  of  the  proprieties  made  him 
feel  terribly  awkward  at  such  an  introduction.  But 
this  new  superior  of  his  was  the  last  person  to  notice 
such  a  thing.  He  was  a  tall,  large  man,  with  that 
coarse  sensual  physiognomy  which  ignorant  people 
think  "jolly"  or  "good-natured;"  one  of  those  men 
who,  though  clever  after  a  certain  fashion,  spend  life  in 
skulking  or  scamping  their  work,  in  the  firm  belief  that 
all  human  nature  does  the  same  at  its  sincerest  bottom, 
and  that  any  sign  of  energy  or  industry  is  but  pretension 
Mr.  Capel  took  up  his  place  in  front  of  the  grate,  as 
if  he  did  not  notice  that  it  held  no  fire,  and  Sibyl's 
music  did  not  cease  for  her  father's  attempt  at  con- 
versation with  Philip.  "  Let  me  see,  to-day  is  Wednes- 
day ;  no  use  your  comir  5  to  the  office  till  next  week. 
Begin  well  on  Monday  morning.  Grand  thing  to 
begin  well,  eh  !  whatever  happens  after  !  And  by  the 
time  you  are  as  old  as  I,  the  mere  beginnings  will 
amount  to  a  good  item  in  the  general  account.  Did 
you  see  the  letter  your  old  governor  wrote  to  me 
about  you  ?     Said  I  should  find  you  quite  an  acquisi- 


OUT   OF   TUNE.  23 


tion — only  wished  that  he  himself  could  have  given 
you  a  sphere  worthy  of  your  talents.  But  I  don't 
suppose  there  was  anything  more  amusing  than  work 
going  on  down  yonder,  was  there  ?  Like  music  ?  So 
do  I.  But  now  Sibyl,  stop  that  '  linked  sweetness  long 
drawn  out,'  and  give  us  a  good  rattling  song." 

"  Father,  how  can  you  ask  me  to  degrade  my 
powers  to  play  those  common  things  j"  and  on  went  the 
'  Reverie.'  "  Oh,  yes,  it  is  all  very  fine,"  said  Mr.  Capel ; 
"  but  how  can  I  know  what  it-  is  all  about,  unless  I  am 
told  ?  '  Reverie,'  indeed.  But  what  about  ?  His  lady- 
love that  wouldn't  take  him  or  his  butcher's  bill  that 
he  can't  pay? " 

"  Why,  the  music  ought  to  tell  you  what  it  means," 
said  Dora.  "  Does  it  not  show  you  pictures  ?  I  saw 
one  then — a  lake  among  the  hills  and  two  people 
walking  in  the  twilight — and  there  was  a  third  one 
somewhere  out  of  sight." 

"  Whatever  the  music  brings  into  your  mind  is 
what  the  music  means  for  you.  Eh,  Miss  Dora! 
Thank  you,  it's  not  often  you  condescend  to  give  me 
a  lesson  in  art,  I  hope  you  don't  expect  a  fee  ?  What 
is  it  ?  '  Whatever  the  music  brings  into  your  mind  is 
what  the  music  means  for  you,'  that's  it.  Well,  since 
I've  been  here  it  has  come  into  my  mind  that  I  have 
not  finished  the  plan  for  old  Squire  Rogers'  new 
stable  at  Bickley  and  that  I'd  better  go  and  do  so. 
So  I  suppose  that  is  the  message  the  '  Reverie  '  has 
for  me." 

"  Dora  despises  such  bathos,  as  well  she  may," 
said  Sibyl. 


24  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


"Yet  it  would  not  be  at  all  despicable  if  every  one 
heard  a  meaning  that  put  him  in  mind  of  his  duty," 
observed  Hetty,  coming  in,  duster  in  hand,  and  speak- 
ing in  tones  just  a  little  severe.  "  There  are  two 
gentlemen  asking  for  you  down  stairs,  father.  The 
office  bell-rang  twice,  but  I  knew  you  could  not  hear 
it  in  this  noise." 

"  I'm  off  Hetty,"  said  the  architect.  I'm  a  lucky 
man,  Mr.  Lewis.  Each  of  my  daughters  is  a  person- 
ification of  something  fine.  Bessie  is  Goodness — 
Sibyl  is  High  Art,  and  Hetty  is  Common  Sense.  Bes- 
sie is  a  saint.  Hetty  is  a  strong-minded  woman — Sib 
is—" 

"Your  favorite  isn't  she,  now,  daddy?"  and  the 
beauty  sprang  up  from  the  music-stool  and  caught  her 
father  by  both  his  arms. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  stop  my  mouth,  Miss.  You 
only  do  so  because  you  think  I'm  going  to  speak  some 
unwelcome  truth.  I  was  about  to  say,  '  Sib  is  a  wom- 
an.'    You're  just  that  and  nothing  more,  Sibyl." 

"And  that  is  the  highest  compliment,"  said  Dora; 
"  that  includes  everything." 

"  Ha  !  ha !  "  laughed  Mr.  Capel,  turning  back 
into  the  room  which  he  had  half  quitted.  "  That  in- 
cludes everything,  and  a  precious  deal  more  than  you 
know  anything  about  yet,  Dora." 

"  And  so  you  call  music,  noise,  Hetty  ?  "  said  Sibyl, 
putting  aside  the  half-finished,  sorrowful  "  Reverie," 
and  dashing  straight  into  a  lively  "  Caprice." 

"  Noise   means   sound  out   of  season,"  answered 


OUT    OF    TUNE.  2$ 


Hetty ;  beginning  quietly  to  dust  and  re-arrange  the 
ornaments  on  a  little  what-not. 

"O    Hetty,   Hetty!"    laughed   Sibyl;    "if  then 

"  The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 

And  is  not  moved  by  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils, 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus. 
Let  no  such  man  be  trusted," 

what  must  such  a  woman  be  ?  Remember  this  is  the 
judgment  of  your  idol,  Shakespeare." 

"  Remember  he  puts  that  judgment  into  the  mouth 
of  a  man  who  gratifies  his  own  will  by  marrying  a 
Jewess,  though  he  thinks  a  Jew  is  something  less  than 
human,  and  that  this  man  speaks  it  in  compliment  to 
the  delicate  aesthetics  of  a  girl  who  deceived  and  rob- 
bed her  father,"  returned  Hester. 

"  Dear  me,  Hester!  "  said  Sibyl ;  "you  have  evi- 
dently thought  the  matter  sufficiently  near  home  to 
be  worth  a  good  deal  of  thought." 

"  I  have  heard  it  so  often  from  you,"  Hester  an- 
swered. 

"  And  so  you  have  made  your  own  natural  defi- 
ciency the  means  of  discovering  a  new  dramatic  beauty 
in  Shakespeare,"  pursued  Sibyl. 

"  That  seems  better  than  to  use  one's  natural 
gifts  to  prey  upon  others1  deficiencies,"  Hetty  retort- 
ed, the  color  in  her  cheeks  mounting  a  little  higher. 

"  Now  don't  get  excited,  dear  sister,  mine  !  Do 
2 


26  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

you  feel  there  is  any  disgrace  in  not  having  an  ear, 
that  you  resent  it  so  tartly  ? "  asked  Sibyl,  mockingly. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  that  I  have  no  ear,  though  I 
don't  play  myself,  and  do  not  care  for  your  music," 
said  Hetty  bitterly  ;  "but  I  know  that  you  think  there 
is  nothing  else  worth  having  in  the  world." 

"  And  if  I  do,  who  am  I,  that  my  opinion  signi- 
fies ?"  asked  Sibyl,  "you  have  good  company  on  your 
side.  Lizzie  is  worse  than  you  are.  I  do  believe 
one  might  strike  two  notes  together  for  hours  without 
jarring  Elizabeth's  nerves." 

Elizabeth  has  wonderful  endurance,"  said  Hetty, 
quietly,  "  she  knows  little  of  harmony  except  to  live 
in  it. 

But  there  is  more  of  it  in  her  voice  than  yours," 

"  How  sweet  to  hear  a  charming  woman 
Talk  of  what  she  doesn't  understand  !  " 

hummed  Sibyl,  provokingly.  Can't  you  leave  me  my 
little  empire  all  to  myself?  It  is  such  a  little  empire, 
quite  beneath  a  model  Minerva  like  you." 

"  You  know  you  don't  mean  that,"  said  Hester,  in 
parenthesis. 

"  I  can  never  guide  the  soul  or  sway  the  intellect," 
Sybyl  went  on  unheeding,  and  the  only  sign  of  irony 
in  the  beautiful  face  was  a  wicked  little  elevation  of 
the  eyebrows — "  I  can  but  touch  the  heart.  I  cannot 
carry  on  a  discussion  like  my  learned  sister.  I  can- 
not write  immortal  verse  like  my  cousin.  All  I  can 
do  vanishes  as  I  do  it,  leaving  but  a  fading  echo  in 
some    indulgent    memory.       I    can  play    with    some 


OUT   OF    TUNE.  27 


expression  ;  just  a  little  more  maybe  than  those  inter- 
esting young  ladies  who  learn  music  at  ten  shillings 
a  quarter.     I  can  sing  they  say  with   some  feeling. 

0  Hetty,  Hetty,  if  only  you  were  not  so  clever,  if  you 
were  foolish  just  at  one  little  corner,  so  that  I  might 
stand  on  a  level  with  you,  sometimes  !  If  I  could  only 
pierce  your  fine  hard  masculine  mind  and  reach  a 
warm  womanly  soul  in  you,  my  sister  !  I  know  what 
you  are  going  to  say,  Hetty  ;  that  only  soul  can  find 
soul.  But  I  do  hope  I  have  a  little,  though  it  be  a 
little  silly  soul  that  will  trick  itself  so  fantastically 
that  some  wiseacres  mistake  it  for  a  dead  wax  doll. 
You  know  I  have  a  little  soul,  don't  you,  Dora,  dear  ? 

1  am  not  sure  about  papa — he  only  likes  me  to  laugh 
at  and  tease.  I  think  I  might  be  worth  something 
more,  if  people  would  only  believe  it." 

"I  cannot  think  how  you  can  talk  so,  Miss  Sibyl," 
said  Philip  ;  "  I,  for  one  should  say  you  had  a  very 
noble  soul."  Poor  Philip  !  He  was  not  used  to 
young  ladies  of  independent  manners  and  speech. 
The  girls  he  had  known  were  quiet  girls,  who  seldom 
went  out  to  quiet  tea-parties  without  their  mothers,  or 
said  ten  consecutive  words  to  any  man  who  was  not 
their  brother  or  at  least  their  cousin  of  some  degree. 
He  had  never  heard  a  young  lady  quote  Shakespeare, 
or  make  a  metaphysical  study  of  herself;  ?nd  utter 
novelty  generally  strongly  attracts,  or  forcibly  repels. 

As  he  spoke,  he  stood  near  the  music-stool  and 
Sibyl  looked  up  at  him  with  those  dark  eyes  of  hers. 
Surely  not  the  eyes  that  had  looked  at  him  so  super- 


28  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


ciliously  the  evening  before  ;  not  the  eyes  that  had 
laughed  so  exultingly  in  the  mirror.  Soft  tender  eyes 
these  seemed,  though  still  out-looking  eyes  that  ad- 
mitted none  to  their  own  secret.  Philip  thought  there 
were  tears  in  them.  Oh,  how  lost  she  must  be  in  that 
dull  house,  with  that  hard  father,  and  the  homely 
Elizabeth,  and  this  stern,  common-place  Hester,  and 
nobody  at  all  to  appreciate  her,  except  perhaps  the 
little  sickly  cousin,  with  her  somewhat  cankered 
temper !  It  is  always  plain  practical  people,  who 
would  never  find  out  that  they  were  not  understood 
themselves,  who  are  the  first  to  pity  others,  and  to 
believe  that  anybody  who  feels  unappreciated,  must  be 
worth  any  amount  of  appreciation  ;  unnoticed  gems, 
rather,  than  is  generally  the  truth,  chips  of  rubbish, 
whose  safety  lies  in  their  not  being  altogether  worth 
the  trouble  of  throwing  away  ! 

Hester  had  finished  arranging  the  china,  and  she 
quietly  took  up  her  cluster  and  went  away  without 
another  word.  Away  to  her  bedroom, — the  back 
room  on  the  third  floor,  overlooking  a  dull,  damp 
yard.  Sibyl  and  Dora  occupied  the  two  rooms  on 
the  front,  because  those  looked  out  on  the  trees,  and 
Sibyl  and  Dora  could  not  exist  without  beauty. 
Sibyl's  door  was  open,  and  as  Hester  passed,  she  saw 
the  unsmoothed  bed,  the  rumpled  night-attire,  the 
messy  toilet-table.  Not  even  the  full  glow  of  the  au- 
tumn sunshine,  nor  the  golden  green  trees  disclosed 
by  the  ill-drawn  blinds,  would  make  that  disorderly 
chamber  a  shrine  of  sweetness  and  light. 


OUT   OF    TUNE.  29 


Sibyl's  room  had  the  dawn,  her  sister's  the  sun- 
set ;  or  rather  it  would  have  been  at  sunset  that  glory 
would  have  visited  it,  only  that  the  yard  was  too  nar- 
row to  admit  more  than  a  tinge  of  pale  gold,  suggest- 
ing the  splendors  beyond,  about  as  dimly  as  a  city 
graveyard  may  figure  the  country  to  some  poor  child 
who  never  goes  out,  even  with  a  school  excursion. 
Yet  Hetty  liked  her  room  at  that  dim  sunset  time. 
It  was  certainly  very  quiet.  Not  with  the  hush  of 
country  chambers  where  birds  twitter  at  the  window- 
sill,  and  the  low  of  cattle  comes  up  from  the  meadow 
beyond  the  purling  river,  which  after  rain,  sings  in 
that  sweetest  note  of  God's  grand  instrument,  the 
sound  of  gushing  water.  This  was  silent  with  the 
sepulchral  stillness  of  high-up  city  rooms.  There 
were  times  when  Hetty  felt  as  if  she  would  like  to  stay 
here  always,  working  on  some  eternal  seam.  Read- 
ing the  Bible  morning  and  night,  and  keeping  Sab- 
bath by  putting  up  her  work,  taking  down  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  or  Jeremy  Taylor,  listening  to  the  church- 
bells,  and  praying  for  the  people  who  obeyed  their 
call.  The  room  would  not  need  much  change  to  be- 
come a  typical  nun's  chamber,  with  its  white  bed, 
strips  of  green  carpeting,  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and 
Ary  Scheffer's  two  pictures  of  Monica  and  St.  Augus- 
tine, and  Our  Lord  and  the  Tempter,  set  in  narrow 
black  frames.  There  was  but  one  sign  of  outer  life 
at  which  the  veriest  ascetic  need  have  demurred  ;  and 
that  was  only  a  small,  richly-set  portrait  in  oils,  hang- 
ing over  the  mantel-piece.     It  was  the  portrait  of  a 


30  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


lady,  about  twenty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  white 
muslin,  with  a  rosebud  in  her  hair — her  left  hand 
wearing  the  plain  gold  marriage-ring.  The  face  was 
pretty,  but  more  unformed  than  should  be  that  of  a 
child  of  twelve,  and  the  white  neck  had  a  peculiar 
set,  as  if  the  little  brown  head  was  very  light  and  per- 
haps somewhat  turned  by  its  new  matronly  dignity. 
Altogether,  it  made  one  wonder  what  her  husband 
had  made  of  her. 

It  was  the  late  Mrs.  Capel. 

But  this  was  not  the  sunset  hour,  and  Hester's 
room  was  dull  enough,  as  she  entered  it,  and  Hester's 
heart  felt  fierce  and  hard.  Yet  she  was  used  to  tilt 
with  Sibyl,  and  to  come  off  worsted,  because  her  best 
weapons  were  those  which  did  not  touch  her  sister, 
while  her  sister  freely  used  others  that  she  would 
scorn  to  take  up.  She  was  used  to  her  father's  esti- 
mate of  her.  She  was  used  to  that  peculiar  pain 
which  powerful  natures  feel,  when,  in  those  close 
relationships,  where  feelings  grow  unanalyzed,  they 
find  unconscious  fear  beginning  to  spring  in  place  of 
spontaneous  love.  Hester  had  long  since  half- 
accepted  the  character  which  was  fastened  upon  her. 
Very  likely  it  was  true  that  she  was  austere  and  cold 
and  too  clever.  She  knew  Lizzie  did  not  think  so, 
but  then  Lizzie  was  so  kind,  that  she  always  thought 
everybody  better  than  they  were.  Yet  down  in  the 
depths  of  her  heart,  there  was  a  voice  which  cried  out 
that  Lizzie  was  right,  and  that  she  could  love  and 
worship,   not   only   Cromwell    and    her    other   dead 


OUT   OF   TUNE.  3 1 


Puritan  heroes — not  only  Shakespeare,  and  such  others 
who  are  as  stars  shining  above  us,  but  also  men  and 
women,  stumbling  by  her  side  along  life's  way.  But 
then  nobody  but  Lizzie  would  ever  believe.  She  felt 
sure  that  even  this  Mr.  Lewis,  who  looked  so  sensible, 
was  beginning  to  dislike  her  and  her  sharp  words,  and 
did  not  notice  that  she  had  not  spoken  tartly  until 
she  was  unfairly  provoked,  and  ought  not  to  be  pro- 
voked ?  Lizzie  seldom  was.  Their  father  never  spoke 
a  truer  word,  than  when  he  lightly  called  Lizzie  a 
saint.  Yet  Hester  could  not  reconcile  herself  to  be 
like  Lizzie,  whose  philosophy  of  life  seemed  best 
summed  up  in  the  old  Mexican  adage,  "  Thou  art 
born  to  suffer,  endure  and  be  silent."  There  was 
something  in  Hetty,  which  would  ask  troublesome 
questions,  such  as,  "  If  endurance  be  so  fine  a  disci- 
pline, has  one  a  right  to  keep  it  all  to  oneself?  Is 
it  not  a  leaving  others'  sins  undisturbed,  that  we  may 
use  them  as  steps  to  raise  ourselves  into  Heaven  ? " 


^tfy0' 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE   SALT   OF   THE    EARTH. 


ETTY  sat  down  by  the  window  and  looked 
dreamily  out  at  the  dreary  yard.  It  was  not 
when  she  was  in  this  mood  that  she  fancied 
it  would  be  happiness  to  stay  there  always 
and  be  quiet.  It  was  strange  that  such  a  wish 
should  ever  come  to  so  young  and  energetic  a  girl, 
with  life's  book  so  blank  before  her !  When  its 
story  has  begun  soon,  and  the  opening  chapters 
have  been  stormy  and  the  leaves  blurred  with  tears, 
and  torn  by  passion,  one  can  understand  the 
weary  attempt  to  shut  the  volume  and  put  it  away. 
Yet  have  you  never  felt  tired  beforehand  at  the 
thought  of  a  long  up-hill  walk  at  sultry  noon-tide  ? 
And  at  other  times,  under  the  pressure  of  necessity, 
have  you  not  braced  up  your  nerves  and  started  off 
with  an  extra  briskness,  to  get  over,  and  return  to 
rest  with  a  quiet  conscience?  And  this  was  how 
Hetty  felt  to-day. 

"  I  wonder  if  anybody  thoroughly  likes  this  life," 
she  mused.      "  I  don't  believe    Sibyl  does,  or  she 


THE    SALT    OF    THE   EARTH.  33 

would  not  be  so  restless.  You  don't  say  that  anybody 
has  a  healthy  appetite  who  only  eats  dainties.  And 
that's  the  way  with  her.  She  drags  herself  through 
the  bread  and  butter  of  common  days,  only  to  reach 
the  sweets  of  a  concert,  or  a  party,  or  a  visitor.  I 
don't  know  whether  papa  is  happy.  I  think  not.  He 
just  gets  through,  somehow.  I  never  heard  papa 
speak  of  death.  And  yet  mamma  died.  One  would 
think  that  would  make  death  so  familiar  that  papa 
would  speak  of  it  quite  naturally,  much  as  he  speaks 
of  his  father's  old  house,  where  he  was  born.  Poor 
papa !  And  Dora  is  never  happy.  Dora  enjoys 
misery,  and  says  there  is  something  far  better  than 
happiness.  But  I  fancy  that  happiness  should  come 
hand-in-hand  with  that  something  better.  If  there  is 
anybody  contented,  I  think  it  is  Lizzie,  actually  Lizzie, 
who  never  does  anything  from  morning  till  night,  but 
look  after  the  house,  and  plan  so  that  all  the  bills  shall 
not  come  in  at  the  wrong  time,  and  who  uses  fully  half 
her  own  allowance,  to  pay  for  odds  and  ends  that 
ought  to  be  included  in  the  general  household  account. 
When  I've  heard  clergymen  giving  "  proofs  of  the 
existence  of  a  future  state,"  I've  thought  that  Lizzie's 
life  is  the  best  proof  of  all,  for  if  there's  one  thing 
that  I'm  always  sure  about,  it  is  that  God  is  just,  and 
that  he  will  make  things  even  some  day. 

Hester  was  not  yet  a  Christian,  nor  was  she  a 
mere  Pagan  worldling.  She  stood  just  where  the 
grand  old  patriarchs  stood,  who  knew  that  their 
Redeemer  lived,  and  that   he    was    coming   to    save 


34  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

them,  but  who  mixed  his  conquest  by  suffering  with 
strange  visions  of  a  material  kingdom.  She  knew  all 
about  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  but  it  was  as  people  might, 
who  heard  of  him  in  the  Jerusalem  gossip  nineteen 
hundred  years  ago.  She  was  seeking  him,  though 
vaguely,  as  a  blind  man  might,  who,  hearing  of  his 
strange  cures,  did  not  question  much  more  about  him, 
but  only  wondered  if  he  would  cure  him  too.  Do  you 
suppose  there  was  any  such  who  never  found  the 
Healer  ?  There  must  have  been  many  sick  left  un- 
cured  in  Jerusalem,  on  that  dark  day  of  public  execu- 
tion in  Golgotha,  but  depend  on  it,  they  were  only 
those  who  thought  the  Physician  but  a  quack,  or  were 
sure  he  would  have  no  power  in  their  very  peculiar 
cases.  For  Christ  knows  the  foot-fall  of  those  who 
seek  him,  and  for  every  step  they  take,  he  takes  ten 
to  meet  them. 

Suddenly  Sibyl  burst  into  the  room.  "  Papa  has 
a  business  appointment  in  Waterloo  place,"  she  began 
breathlessly  ;  "  and  so  he  is  going  to  drop  Mr.  Lewis 
at  the  National  Gallery  on  his  way,  and  I  and  Dora 
are  going  too.  Lend  me  your  lace  neck-tie,  for  mine 
is  a  perfect  wisp!  There's  a  darling!  I  ought  to 
have  ironed  mine  yesterday,  but  forgot  it.  Is  my  hair 
right  behind?  Just  look  at  these  gloves!  Nasty, 
shabby  brown  things,  I  shan't  put  them  on.  I'll  take 
my  best  primrose  pair.  What  is  the  good  of  having 
nice  things  if  one  does  not  wear  them  ?  Lend  me 
your  umbrella,  dear  pet.  Mine  has  lost  its  snap. 
What  is  yours,  an  alpaca  ?     1  never  knew  that  before. 


THE    SALT    OF    THE    EARTH.  35 


What  a  miser  you  must  be !  Very  much  obliged  to 
you,  all  the  same,  dear,  but  I  won't  take  it.  I  won't 
take  any.  I  know  we  are  going  in  a  cab,  because 
papa  is  late  already.  So  perhaps  we'll  have  one 
back,  or  if  not,  I'll  take  my  chance  that  the  weather 
will  be  fine,  though  it  does  look  rather  cloudy.  What 
a  sight  my  room  is !  I  just  looked  in  now,  and  came 
away  here  in  disgust.  If  any  visitors  come,  don't  let 
them  see  it,  unless  indeed  you  choose  to  tidy  it,  like  a 
dear  orderly  angel  as  you  are.  I  don't  see  why  we 
should  ever  arrange  our  own  rooms  at  all, — what  is 
Popps  for  ?  " 

"  Popps  has  quite  enough  to  do  with  the  heavy 
work,"  said  Hester. 

"  Then  there's  Mrs.  Edwardes,"  returned  Sibyl. 
"  I  don't  believe  she  half  earns  her  money,  as  a  smart 
woman  might — now,  do  you,  Popps  ? "  she  asked,  as 
that  young  person  appeared,  about  some  household 
duty. 

"  Well,  she  do  rather  creep  and  crawl,"  said  Popps, 
"  them  fallen  sort  of  people  often  do.  I'd  rather  have 
somebody  as  was  a-risin'  in  the  world,  myself.  Not 
as  Mrs.  Edwardes  ever  talks  about  what  she  has  been, 
like  the  one  who  was  afore  her,  who  was  forever 
a-rilin'  me,  a  sayin'  '  when  she'd  a  good  house  and 
servants  of  her  own,'  till  at  last  I  told  her,  that  I'd  be 
ashamed  to  own  that  I'd  been  such  a  fool  as  not  to  be 
able  to  keep  'em,  instead  o'  lettin'  myself  down  to 
earn  eighteen  pence  a  day  and  my  dinner,  to  say 
nothin'   o'   being  that  dirt  mean  as  to  ask,  if  there 


36  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

weren't  no  tea  leaves  or  drippin'  to  spare!  Mrs. 
Edwardes  now  is  quite  the  other  way;  she  holds  her 
tongue  and  goes  about  a-sighin',  till  it  worrits  me  so, 
that  I  says,  'one  would  think  that  you  had  something 
a-boiliir  in  your  mind,  and  you  was  a  letting  off  the 
steam.'  But  we  must  all  have  patience  with  each 
other,  and  if  Miss  Lizzie  wasn't  the  sort  of  lady  to 
give  work  to  a  poor  dazy,  come-down  sort  of  body 
like  her,  most  likely  she  wouldn't  have  been  the  sort 
to  take  a  poor  girl  like  me  out  of  the  ragged  school." 

"And  now  off  you  goes,  Miss  Sibyl;"  Popps  solil- 
oquized, as  the  two  sisters  went  down  stairs  together. 
"  You're  a  fine  bird,  aren't  you,  with  your  gay  feathers  j 
but  you're  one  o'  the  sort  that  looks  particular  bad 
when  you're  a-moultin'.  With  all  your  airsomeness, 
bishop  of  Chilchester  for  the  benefit  of  the  funds  of 
the  Monican  Sisterhood.  Next  Sunday  would  cer- 
tainly be  time  enough  for  Bracket  Court. 

Elizabeth  Capel  had  risen  at  seven  o'clock  that 
morning,  and  had  taken  her  usual  brave  share  of  the 
housework,  so  that  even  Popps  was  free  to  go  to  her 
chapel's  morning  service.  "Two  sermons  on  Sunday 
are  not  too  much  spiritual  food  for  a  well-disposed  girl 
who  has  to  wrork  hard  all  the  week,  and  is  not  enough 
educated  to  get  much  benefit  from  books,"  thought  Eliz- 
abeth, as  she  dusted  the  rooms  that  she  had  carefully 
set  in  order  the  night  before,  so  that  Sabbath  work 
might  be  reduced  to  its  minimum  ;  and  then  she  went 
up  stairs  just  at  the  right  moment  to  prevent  sharp 
words  between  Sibyl  and  Hester,  fastened  a  refractory 


THE    SALT    OF    THE    EARTH.  37 

curl  for  Sibyl,  pinned  Hester's  skirt  in  precisely  the 
right  way,  went  down  with  them  to  join  the  gentlemen 
in  the  parlor,  ran  up  stairs  again  to  fetch  Dora's  gloves, 
when  she  found  she  had  left  them  in  her  own  room 
after  all,  kissed  the  three  girls  as  they  passed  out  at 
the  street  door,  and  hoped  they  would  have  a  good 
sermon,  for  she  had  heard  that  the  bishop  was  an 
earnest  charitable  man,  though  he  was  inclined  to 
favor  the  curates  who  wore  crosses  on  their  backs. 
And  then  she  closed  the  door  and  went  back  alone 
into  the  quiet  house. 

Very  quiet  was  the  old  Bloomsbury  house.  And 
as  she  went  into  the  little  back  parlor,  a  ray  of  autumn 
sunshine  stealing  through  the  evergreens  which  she 
kept  to  enliven  the  window-sill,  carried  her  mind  sud- 
denly back  to  a  little  churchyard  in  Kent,  where  she 
had  stood  one  bright  afternoon,  ten  years  ago,  on  one 
of  the  few  holidays  of  her  existence.  She  had  been  on 
a  picnic,  not  with  friends,  but  with  the  teachers  of  a 
Sunday-school  where  she  herself  had  found  time  to 
take  part  in  those  less  responsible  days.  She  had  not 
been  on  intimate  terms  with  any  of  them.  She  did 
her  teacher's  duty  regularly  and  faithfully,  but  made 
so  little  fuss  about  it,  had  such  a  trifle  of  money  to 
spend  on  rewards,  never  made  an  important  bustle  to 
find  a  substitute  while  she  took  a  long  summer  holi- 
day, that  Miss  Capel  was  thought  nobody  at  all,  ex- 
cept on  wet'  Sundays  when  she  took  everybody's  class 
as  well  as  her  own.  No,  not  with  one  of  them  had 
she  been  intimate.     But  women  who  may  not  love  at 


38  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

hand  are  free  to  worship  afar  off.  Lizzie  Capel  had 
dreamed  her  dream,  and  only  a  dream,  which  had 
never  for  one  moment  rounded  off  into  a  reality. 
Lizzie  Capel  knows  what  she  thinks  is  the  finest  type 
of  man  God  ever  put  into  this  world.  A  man  nearly 
six  feet  high,  with  square  solid  shoulders,  and  a 
healthy  honest-eyed  face  set  in  a  framework  of  crisp 
brown  curls.  A  man  who  could  fell  an  oak  or  nurse  a 
sick  baby.  Lizzie  Capel  knows  all  about  such  a  one, 
and  feels  quite  sure  what  he  would  do  in  every  cir- 
cumstance of  life,  though  she  only  knew  him  as  the 
solitary  teacher  beside  herself,  who  never  missed  one 
attendance  all  the  year  round,  and  never  got  beyond 
a  lifted  hat,  if  he  met  her  without  the  school  door,  or  a 
pleasant  "Good-morning"  within.  Never  but  once. 
They  had  a  little  conversation  among  the  mossy 
graves  in  that  Kentish  churchyard.  She  had  strayed 
away  by  herself,  and  was  sitting  on  the  low  stone  wall 
looking  at  the  sunset,  when  he  came  up  behind  her. 
And  he  was  so  pleasant !  And  only  a  month  after 
she  was  asked  to  contribute  towards  a  testimonial  in 
appreciation  of  his  labors,  previous  to  his  departure 
for  New  Zealand.  She  gave  half  a  sovereign.  Surely 
he  had  known  of  this  journey  that  evening  in  the  grave- 
yard. She  wished  that  he  had  just  said  a  word  about 
it.  But  why  should  he  ?  They  had  merely  taught  in 
the  same  room  twice  every  Sunday  for  years.  So  she 
gave  half  a  sovereign  towards  the  morocco  Bible  which 
they  gave  him,  and  she  signed  "  Elizabeth  Capei"  to 


THE   SALT    OF   THE    EARTH.  39 


the  parting  address.  Hers  was  the  last  name  on  the 
list — and  her  writing  did  look  so  bad  on  the  vel- 
lum. 

He  had  reached  New  Zealand  in  safety ;  she 
learned  that,  because  his  mother  wrote  to  the  school- 
superintendent  to  say  that  she  had  received  a  letter 
from  her  son,  and  that  he  sent  his  kindest  remem- 
brances to  all  his  old  friends.  About  a  year  after- 
wards the  Sunday-school  was  broken  up,  and  that  was 
all.     Quite  all. 

Would  it  be  better  or  worse  for  Elizabeth  Capel  if 
she  realized  how  some  quiet,  self-contained  men  watch 
and  value  a  woman,  without  a  word  ?  if  she  knew  that 
there  was  a  certain  rash  inclination  suppressed  in 
that  manly  heart  as  it  beat  heavily  and  fast  under  the 
yew  trees  in  that  autumn  sunset  ?  if  she  knew  that  the 
last  name  under  that  memorial  was  the  first  to  meet 
his  eyes  ?  if  she  had  seen  him  give  it  one  long  kiss  ere 
he  buried  it  down  at  the  bottom  of  his  great  emigrant's 
chest,  so  that  it  should  never  turn  up  to  waken  memory 
with  that  bitter  sting  which  men  dread  so  much  ?  if 
she  could  have  understood  how  when,  years  after,  a 
colonial  bishop  married  him  to  a  wealthy  settler's 
daughter,  there  came  between  him  and  his  rather 
showy  bride,  a  pale  vision  of  a  neat,  gentle  English 
girl,  with  an  open  Testament  in  her  ungloved  hands, 
sweetly  teaching  little  children  how  "Jesus  Christ 
came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners  !  " 

Neither  better  nor  worse.     For  Elizabeth  Capel  is 
one  of  those   for  whom,   "  fearing  God  and  keeping 


40  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


his  commandments,"  all  things  and  any  thing,  work 
together  for  good  and  become  but  steps  into  heaven. 

And  she  paused  with  her  eyes  on  the  ever- 
greens standing  in  the  light,  seeing  not  them,  but  a 
manly  figure,  with  kind  blue  eyes  looking  into  hers. 
And  she  smiled  to  herself  at  the  memory,  not  mock- 
ingly, but  thankfully,  thinking  how  good  it  was  for  a 
woman  to  love  a  good  man. 

It  is  sad  to  think  of  a  life  so  blank  and  plain,  that 
it  is  proud  of  such  a  single  gold  thread  as  this  ?  Nay, 
nay.  Is  it  the  grand  end  of  love  that  men  and  women 
should  keep  house,  and  pay  taxes,  and  bear  children  ? 
Is  it  not  rather  that  it  should  teach  them  some  les- 
sons which  Elizabeth  Capel  has  surely  learned  better 
from  one  line  of  its  sweet  song  than  many  a  woman 
does,  who  hears  out  the  whole  melody,  amid  a  clashing 
discord  of  trousseaux  and  settlements  and  pin-money? 
Better  a  dead-white  rose,  shut  in  a  Bible,  than  a  flour- 
ishing field  of  stinging  nettles.  Will  you  still  pity 
Elizabeth  Capel  ?  Do  you  pity  the  saints  in  heaven  ? 

She  sat  down  to  read  the  Bible.  It  opened  at  the 
thirty-seventh  Psalm.  Unless  she  had  a  very  ex- 
press purpose,  Elizabeth  Capel  always  read  where  the 
Bible  opened  ;  why,  she  could  scarcely  have  told,  but 
it  was  with  some  feeling,  that  God's  will  was  in  every 
circumstance.  And  so  she  began,  reading  half  aloud, 
in  a  low  monotone,  and  her  thoughts  made  a  running 
commentary  about  how  vexed  and  passionate  she  had 
felt  once,  years  before,  when  her  father  had  praised 
the  superior  style   and  elegance  of  a  neighbor,  like 


THE   SALT   OF   THE    EARTH.  41 

herself  a  widower's  daughter,  whom  she  privately 
knew  to  be  in  the  habit  of  helping  her  draper's  bills 
out  of  the  household  allowance.  Poor  thing  !  Eliz- 
abeth sighed  to  remember  the  ruin  that  came  of  that 
gay  girl's  marriage,  till  at  last,  the  once  admired  belle 
of  the  Square  had  sold  matches  in  the  streets  on 
rainy  days,  when  gentlemen's  hearts  were  likely  to  be 
softened  to  give  a  penny  for  half  its  worth  !  Poor 
thing  !  poor  thing!  and  Elizabeth's  heart  was  so  sore 
to  think  how  bitter  had  been  her  girlish  indignation 
against  her,  that  she  half  forgot  it  had  its  root  in  jus- 
tice. And  how  strange  it  was,  that  there  was  some- 
thing more  in  common  between  her  and  the  Psalmist, 
than  all  the  difference  of  date,  and  place,  and  rank, 
and  capacity ;  so  that  the  same  truths  came  so  exactly 
home  to  the  trials  and  temptations  of  both  !  A  very 
commonplace  fact,  but  a  very  comforting  one  for 
commonplace  people,  whose  speech  can  never  set 
forth  the  secrets  of  their  own  natures,  but  must  hum- 
bly wait  for  the  crumbs  of  sympathy  that  fall  from 
other  men's  tables.  Never  mind,  mute  brother  !  the 
very  foremost  talker  at  the  banquet  needs  just  the 
same  food  as  you,  and  longs  for  the  same  dainties, 
and  though  you  must  be  satisfied  with  his  leavings, 
yet  shall  the  Master  of  the  Feast  take  care  that  they 
suffice  you. 

Suddenly  Elizabeth's  eye  fell  upon  the  explana- 
tion why  the  Bible  had  opened  at  that  Psalm.  Close 
on  the  binding  lay  a  little  strip  of  fancy  card-board, 
with  which   Hester  had  been  making  book-marks  a 


42  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


few  days  before.  She  too  had  been  reading  there. 
And  Elizabeth  sighed.  For  she  knew  her  sister,  and 
could  guess  how  her  hot  young  heart  read  the  words 
in  a  spirit  of  bitter  prophecy,  rather  than  of  calm 
hope.  Elizabeth's  scheme  of  life  was  very  simple, 
undisturbed  by  the  contradictions  and  paradoxes  that 
perplexed  Hester.  With  her  it  was  enough  that  God 
governed  the  world  ;  therefore  the  world  must  be  gov- 
erned well.  Satan  might  meddle,  but  his  might  be- 
neath God's,  was  as  a  fire-brand  put  out  by  the  sun- 
shine. She  was  like  a  simple  villager,  accepting  and 
obeying  the  edicts  of  the  prime-minister,  not  mingling 
with  the  village  politicians  who  will  have  their  little 
argument  over  every  proclamation,  and  cavil  at  words 
of  which  they  utterly  mistake  the  meaning.  Yet 
among  such,  there  may  be  a  few  souls  with  something 
far  more  than  the  easy  talents  of  doubt  and  denial, 
some  who  will  wait  and  watch  and  learn  till  they  ar- 
rive at  the  same  consenting  faith  on  a  higher  level  of 
knowledge.  But  let  not  those  be  too  sure  of  their 
right  to  the  leader's  place,  so  readily  assigned  to  them 
by  their  humbler  brethren.  Christ  said,  "  Blessed 
are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 

Elizabeth  knew  how  Hester  pondered  over  the 
facts  that  Sibyl,  who  spent  most  money  and  did  least 
work,  and  never  suppressed  a  whim,  nor  let  a  wish 
pass  by  unspoken,  was  yet  the  favorite  of  a  father, 
who  was  always  justly  complaining  that  his  too  small 
income  was  constantly  decreasing,  and  who  looked  so 
gloomy  over  the  necessary  household  accounts,  that 


THE   SALT   OF   THE   EARTH.  43 

she  herself  was  fain  to  spend  her  whole  ingenuity  in 
poor  little  shifts  to  keep  them  down  ;  how  both  their 
father  and  Dora  considered  Sibyl's  dresses  and  sur- 
roundings, unexceptionable  in  fit,  dainty  in  texture, 
and  delicate  in  hue,  as  sheer  necessities  to  her  artis- 
tic nature,  and  keen  perception  of  beauty ;  never  seem- 
ing to  understand  that  others  might  have  the  same 
inclinations,  quite  as  strongly,  only  not  stronger  than 
their  sense  of  duty  ;  how  Dora's  nerves  were  always 
jarred  by  Hesters  plain-spoken  truths,  but  not 
by  Sibyl's  irresponsible  frivolities,  which  provoked 
them. 

Hester's  outward  life  lay  alongside  of  Elizabeth's. 
She  too  found  out  the  shops  where  dresses  might  be 
bought  a  little  cheaper  than  at  the  old  family  draper's. 
She  too  said,  that  they  might  as  well  be  made  up  at 
home,  and  that  she  and  Lizzie  were  often  glad  of 
some  such  definite  occupation.  She  too  read  reviews 
of  books  she  could  never  buy,  and  notices  of  picture- 
galleries  that  she  would  never  attend.  She  too,  ate 
bread  and  butter  that  the  cake  might  go  further,  and 
found  out  that  she  liked  long  walks,  that  she  might 
save  the  omnibus  fare.  But  what  Elizabeth  did  as  a 
matter  of  course,  as  barest  duty,  almost  too  simple  to 
be  done  for  God's  sake  ;  but,  by  his  great  goodness, 
accepted  as  done  unto  her  fellow-men,  Hester  did 
fiercely,  defiantly,  self-consciously,  proudly  aware  that 
by  such  strength  of  will,  such  self-restraint  and  self- 
denial,  she  was  taking  out  her  patent  of  nature's  no- 
bility, caring  not  much  for  either  duty  to  God  or  ser- 


44  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


vice  to  man,  but  carefully  seeking,  inch  by  inch,  to 
add  to  her  own  moral  stature,  while  her  heart  pro- 
tested, with  a  practical  application  of  terms  which 
made  the  gentler  Lizzie  to  shudder,  "  Behold  these 
are  the  ungodly  who  prosper  in  the  world  and  increase 
in  riches !  "  She  could  accept  the  Psalmist's  self- 
analysis  only  so  far  as  her  own  went  with  it ;  she 
could  not  take  his  conclusion  until  she  had  made  it 
hers  by  experience.  All  this  Elizabeth  knew  full 
well.  So  she  sighed  as  she  closed  the  Bible.  And 
then  she  read  Massillon's  sermon  "  On  the  Happiness 
of  the  Just." 

Popps  was  the  first  to  return  from  divine  worship, 
and  there  was  nobody  but  Elizabeth  herself  to  answer 
her  modest  single  knock.  Popps  used  the  upper 
door  on  Sundays.  That  was  one  of  Elizabeth's 
homely  domestic  rules.  She  had  never  argued  it  out 
to  herself,  that  it  was  well  to  surround  the  holy  day 
with  such  little  pleasant  distinctions.  She  had  only 
thought  it  was  but  fair,  that  all  such  trifling  arrange- 
ments should  be  made  on  the  side  sure  to  be  agree- 
able to  the  servant.  And  Popps  stepped  in,  attired 
in  a  blue  merino  dress,  a  drab  cloth  jacket,  a  brown 
bonnet  with  green  ribbons,  and  a  pink  bow  in  the 
front.  Poor  Popps  was  surely  indemnifying  herself 
for  the  many  long  years  when  dirt  was  the  one  tint  of 
her  whole  apparel.  And  Elizabeth,  remembering  the 
squalid  shivering  girl  who  had  come  to  her  Sunday- 
class  seven  years  before,  neither  smiled  nor  scoffed 
at  the  gay  conflicting  colors  ;    only  wished  that  she 


THE   SALT   OF   THE    EARTH.  45 

might  hope  every  such  ragged  child  would   improve 
as  much. 

Presently  Popps  came  into  the  parlor  to  set  out 
the  dinner-table.  Elizabeth  had  not  quite  finished 
Massillon's  sermon,  but  she  closed  the  book.  She 
was  not  one  of  those  who  think  that  all  profitable 
spiritual  communion  must  be  held  with  the  holy  dead. 
She  always  remembered  that  God  perfects  his  praise 
in  the  mouths  of  very  babes  and  sucklings. 

"  I  hope  you  had  a  full  chapel,  Popps ;"  she  ob- 
served. 

"  Oh  yes,  Miss,"  answered  Popps,  and  such  a  good 
sermon !     The  text  was  in  the  seventh  verse  of  the 
seventh  chapter  of  Ephesians  :  '  As  to  the  Lord   and 
not  to   men.'      It  seemed  as  if  he  were   a-preachin' 
right  to  me,  for  he  made  out  as  how  one  work  is  as 
good  as  another  in  the  Lord's  sight,  and,  said  he,  'If 
those  as  has  the  getting  ready  o'meals  and  the  keep- 
ing tidy  o'  houses  did  their  dooty  more  often  as  they 
ought,  then  there'd  be  a  deal  of  what's  thought  God's 
grander  work,  that  wouldn't  be  needed  at  all,  because 
men  wouldn't  be  so  often  tipsy,  and  girls  wouldn't  go 
so  much  astray.     He  said    that  what    we  calls  great 
services  to  God,  is  just  that  one  or  two  good  people 
have  to  do  at  a  stretch,  what   a  great  many  oughter 
a'  done  natural,  in  the  regular  way  of  business.'     And 
he  said  over  a  bit  of  poetry,  that  I   wish   was  in  the 
hymn-book,  for  I'd  like  to  learn  it.     You  can  get  a 
deal  of  sense  packed  up  in  a   verse  or  two,  can't  you, 
Miss  ?     The  jingling  words  at  the  ends  of  the  lines 


46  GOLD   AND    DROSS.' 

hold  the  meaning  together,  like  the  pegs  on  a  clothes- 
line. I  wish  I  could  remember  it.  Something  about 
sweeping  a  room." 

"  Was  it  something  like  this  ? "  asked  Elizabeth, 

"  From  God  all  things  a  glory  take, 

No  task  so  low  and  mean, 
But  with  this  tincture, '  For  thy  sake,' 

Does  grow  both  bright  and  clean. 
A  servant  with  this  clause 

Makes  drudgery  divine, 
Who  sweeps  a  room  as  to  thy  laws, 

Makes  that  and  the  action  fine." 

"Yes,  Miss,  that's  it.     I'd  give  anything  to  know 
it  straight  off  like  that." 

"  I'll  find  the  book  where  it  is,"  said  Elizabeth  ; 
"  and  then  you  can  learn  it." 

"Thank  you,  Miss,  I  should  like.  D'ye  know,  I 
wish  Mrs.  Edwardes  had  been  with  me  this  mornin'. 
I  thought  the  sermon  might  ha'  cheered  her  up. 
Seems  to  me  as  if  she  always  thinks  her  life  isn't 
worth  a-livin',  and  she's  just  a-dragging  herself  to  the 
end,  because  she  can't  help  it.  D'ye  know,  Miss 
Lizzie,  I  don't  think  she  ever  sets  foot  in  either 
church  or  chapel.  I  b'lieve  she  just  sets  by  herself 
all  Sunday  in  that  little  bit  of  a  room  of  hern'  a-look- 
ing  out  at  the  dead  wall.  I  can't  think  why  she  went 
to  live  in  such  a  jail!  'Quiet  and  'spectable'  she 
calls  it !  I'd  rather  live  in  the  narrowest  court,  I 
would  !  I  likes  life,  Miss.  I  says  where  there's  a 
lot  of  people  there's  sure  to  be  some  of  'em  good 
enough  for  you,  whoever  you  are  !  " 


THE   SALT   OF    THE    EARTH.  47 

"  And  you  don't  think  she  ever  goes  to  church  or 
chapel  ?"  said  Elizabeth,  her  conscience  accusing  her 
with  some  neglect  that  she  had  never  made  sufficient 
acquaintance  with  this  out-lying  member  of  her 
household,  to  discover  that  she  was  npt  justified  in 
her  charitable  conclusion  that  this  decent  middle-aged 
woman  was  likely  to  be  far  before  herself  in  the 
school  of  Christ. 

"  No,  Miss.    I'm  quite  sure  she  does'nt  and  hasn't 
for  ever  so  long." 

"  Then,  Popps,  we'll  ask  her  to  come  to  tea  with 
you  next  Sunday,  and  when  you  propose  going  to 
chapel  afterwards,  she'll  be  almost  sure  to  join  you. 
Perhaps  she  had  to  go  away  from  her  own  chapel 
when  her  husband  died,  or  couldn't  bear  to  go  by 
herself  when  she  was  first  a  widow,  and  so  got  out  of 
the  habit."  Elizabeth  wanted  every  good  work  to  be 
done  in  the  way  of  neighborly  kindness,  not  with  a 
conscious  purpose  to  convert. 

"Well,  Miss,  I  think  master  an'  the  young  ladies 
'11  be  home  soon.  I  only  hopes  their  Bishop  has 
given  them  as  good  a  sermon  as  my  minister,  that's 
all.  It  always  seems  to  me  so  sleepy-like  in  them 
fine  churches." 

"  Not  in  all,  Popps,"  said  Elizabeth.  "  It  was  a 
Church  of  England  clergyman  who  wrote  those  verses 
your  minister  used  in  his  sermon  to-day.  I'm  very 
fond  of  the  Church  of  England,  Popps,  although  I  go 
to  chapel  so  often." 

"  I'm  not  saying  it's  not  very  good,"  said  Popps  ; 


& 


48  GOLD    AND    I 'ROSS. 

"only  chapel's  the  place  for  me,  and  it  makes  me 
speak  up  for  it  kind  o'  bitter,  when  folks  (like  the 
lady  that  had  our  class  after  you  left)  says  that  those 
as  go  there  are  guilty  of  a  sin — something  that  begins 
like  scissors, — I  can't  say  the  words,  Miss,  and  I 
don't  know  what  it  means,  but  I  can  tell  you  that  they 
mean  it  uncommon  nasty.  There's  the  family  come 
back  !  "  and  Popps  bustled  off  to  answer  the  stirring 
rat-tat-tat. 

They  all  came  crowding  into  the  little  dining- 
room. 

"  Tired  to  death  !  "  exclaimed  Sibyl,  throwing  her- 
self into  the  easy  chair.  "  Well,  it  wasn't  much  of  a 
sermon  after  all  !  I  mean  the  Bishop  is  nothing  of 
an  orator.  But  the  music  was  very  good,  and  the  con- 
gregation most  aristocratic.  I  wonder  who  those 
ladies  were  who  sat  to  your  right,  Dora  ?  I  saw  they 
had  a  coronet  engraved  on  their  prayer-books.  Did 
you  notice  the  wall-flowers  on  their  black-lace  bonnets, 
Hetty  ?  I  never  saw  artificial  wall-flowers,  before,  and 
they  make  such  a  stylish  and  novel  autumn  effect." 

"  I  was  greatly  struck  by  the  memorial-window  in 
the  side  aisle,"  said  Dora.  "Did  you  observe  it?  A 
path  with  the  shadow  of  a  cross  thrown  over  it,  and 
strewed  with  thorns ;  at  either  side,  hedges  with  wild 
roses  growing  just  out  of  reach  of  a  little  child  walking 
on  the  prickly  path  between  them,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  way  a  great  gate,  with  the  sun  behind  it,  and  an 
angel  watching  through  its  bars,  to  be  ready  to  open  it 


THE   SALT   OF   THE   EARTH.  49 

when  the  pilgrim  should  arrive.  That  was  my  sermon 
Sibyl." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  say  that  you  believe  the  Thirty- 
Nine  Articles  are  not  intended  to  be  taken  according 
to  my  views  ? "  This  was  addressed  to  Philip  by  Mr. 
Capel. 

"No,  Mr.  Capel,  certainly  not.  It  is  my  full 
belief  that " — and  the  two  gentlemen  walked  up  and 
down  the  passage  to  finish  an  argument  they  had 
begun  in  the  street. 

Elizabeth  looked  at  Hester,  and  Hester  looked 
back  at  Elizabeth. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  had  a  little  talk  with  some 
of  the  sisterhood  of  St.  Monica,"  said  Hester,  softly. 
"There  were  some  happy  faces  among  them — like 
yours,  Lizzie !  " 

3 


CHAPTER  IV. 


A  PORTRAIT  AND  A  PUZZLE. 


\  Monday  morning  Philip  sat  down  to  his 
desk  in  the  office. 

He  had  felt  in  a  kind  of  feverish  excite- 
ment during  the  few  days  since  his  arrival 
in  London.  The  novelty  of  everything  around,  from 
the  bustling  streets  to  the  pretty  Sibyl,  with  her  sweet 
glib  tongue,  the  unwonted  leisure  and  the  utter  ab- 
sence of  all  his  old  landmarks  of  life,  had  made  him 
as  one  in  a  dream.  He  had  not  felt  even  surely  root- 
ed in  his  own  mind.  In  that  short  time  he  had  come 
in  closer  personal  contact  with  more  varying  ideas, 
more  differing  modes  of  thought  than  in  his  whole 
life  before.  A  close  worker  in  the  office  at  Ribbock, 
and  a  diligent  student  at  home,  he  had  made  no  ac- 
quaintances beyond  those  that  he  found  ready  to  his 
hand  in  his  mothers  small  circle — a  circle  whose 
dimly  defined  individualities  were  all  alike  saturated 
with  the  dogmas  and  idiosyncrasies  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Williams,  the  old  Independent  minister,  who  had 
earned  a  small  grade  of  Popedom  by  forty  years'  dili- 


A    PORTRAIT    AND    A    PUZZLE.  5 1 

gent  service  and  tenacious  self-assertion.  In  fact, 
Philip  had  felt  altogether  so  loosed  from  his  moorings 
that  he  was  fairly  glad  to  find  himself  once  more 
among  familiar  ground-plans  and  diagrams.  How- 
ever different  the  world  seemed  growing,  here  was  his 
work  for  him  to  do  ;  and  what  a  stay  work  is  !  Not 
employment  merely,  for  that  may  be  local  and  tem- 
porary, colored  by  the  changing  skies  of  our  existence, 
but  our  own  work,  that  which  we  do  by  the  sweat  of 
our  brow,  that  we  may  eat  bread  ;  that  which  we  must 
do  to-morrow,  though  we  may  bury  the  desire  of  our 
eyes  to-day;  that  which  we  must  steadily  pursue  to- 
day, however  much  we  are  tempted  to  dream  of  the 
bliss  that  may  come  to-morrow.  This  work  may  be 
likened  to  the  stake  whereto  our  lives  are  bound.  It 
may  cramp  us  a  little  sometimes,  but  where  should 
not  we  wander  without  its  chain  ?  We  may  fancy  how 
we  could  enjoy  ourselves  without  it,  how  free,  how 
spiritual,  how  lofty  our  natures  would  become,  while 
we  are  only  as  free  and  lofty  and  spiritual  as  we  are 
just  because  of  it !  O  worker  !  repining  at  the  same 
dull  task  that  waits  you  day  after  day,  look  at  those 
who,  having  no  need  for  the  bread  that  perisheth,  and 
feeling  no  hunger  for  that  which  perisheth  not,  work 
not  at  all!  Would  you  be  as  they  ?  Are  they  so  free, 
so  spiritual,  so  lofty  ?  Does  not  the  Devil  deceive 
them  into  turning  his  tread-mill  and  calling  it  sport  ? 
Is  not  work  the  homely  stool  whereon  we  may  climb 
to  peep  into  our  Father's  treasuries  ? 

By  the  middle  of  the  week,  Philip  was  his  own  so- 


52  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

berself.  Life  was  no  longer  a  mere  hurry  of  fashiona- 
ble crowds,  a  delirious  sense  of  uttter  novelty.  It  was 
the  old  practical  world  again,  wherein  young  men  must 
be  punctual  and  concentrative ;  where,  too,  there 
were  absorbing  professional  interests,  that  made  one 
quite  eager  for  the  office,  quite  able  to  forget  that  the 
sun  was  bright  in  Regent  street,  and  that  Hyde  Park 
was  a  pleasant  place  even  in  the  dull  season.  He  had 
now  fairly  unpacked  his  boxes,  and  the  very  look  of 
the  familiar  books,  and  other  proprieties  had  had  its 
steadying  influence.  It  is  not  easy  to  keep  oneself 
the  same  person  as  one  was  yesterday,  without  some 
outward  assurance  that  one  really  is  the  same.  If  you 
would  find  the  river  of  Lethe,  take  nothing  in  your 
hand,  and  go  and  seek  it,  away  and  away,  where  no  fa- 
miliar household  bell  no  well-known  mark  on  the  wall, 
can  startle  you  back  into  yourself.  But  remember 
there  is  no  certain  antidote  for  that  deadening  draught, 
and  that  in  blurring  the  form  of  the  woman  who  play- 
ed you  false,  or  blunting  the  sting  of  the  dire  mistake 
you  committed  in  some  black  passion,  it  will  also  dim 
the  memory  of  the  mother  who  taught  you  your  pray- 
ers, and  cloud  the  recollection  of  the  little  cousin  who 
died  when  she  was  young,  and  sent  her  love  to  you, 
just  the  moment  before  she  went  to  sing  in  heaven. 
Well  for  a  few  that  some  forgetfulness  may  be  pur- 
chased even  at  so  high  a  price  !  Only  beware  of  start- 
ing on  such  quest  without  due  cause. 

Still,  though  Philip  returned  to  his  old  allegian- 
ces, and  did  his  professional  duty,  diligently,  and  call- 


A    PORTRAIT    AND    A    PUZZLE.  53 

ed  at  the  house  of  the  minister  of  Bracket  Chapel 
only  to  learn  that  he  was  out  of  town — yet  he  did  not 
the  less  find  it  very  delightful  to  go  up  to  the  drawing- 
room  in  the  evening  and  enjoy  Sibyl's  music  and  join 
in  the  family  chatter.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days,  he 
almost  unconsciously  learned  a  good  deal  of  the  Cap- 
els'  history.  On  certain  points  Mr.  Capel  did  not 
leave  him  to  this  chance  information,  but  frankly  told 
him  that  the  business  was  not  so  good  as  it  had  been, 
that  he  himself  was  not  equal  to  improve  or  even  to 
keep  it  up,  which  was  his  reason  for  taking  an  assist- 
ant with  a  prospective  interest  in  its  prosperity,  and 
that  he  himself  had  some  small  private  means  to  fall 
back  upon. 

"  Not  much,  but  an  old  man  don't  want  much,"  he 
said.  "I'm  tired  of  business,  and  shall  get  rid  of  it 
in  a  year  or  two  when  some  of  the  girls  are  off.  I  did 
not  think  I  should  have  to  stay  in  it  so  long." 

Philip  found  that  Dora  was  an  orphan,  left  so  in 
infancy,  and  wholly  dependent  on  her  uncle,  who 
bluntly  put  it,  "  That  she  was  quite  welcome,  he  only 
wished  she'd  do  his  kitchen  more  credit." 

Philip  could  not  altogether  understand  this  new 
principal  of  his.  Was  he  selfish  or  unselfish?  Was 
he  reckless  or  only  careless  ?  He  might  let  the  or- 
phan sit  at  his  table  and  share  alike  with  his  daugh- 
ters, yet  he  could  not  cross  his  own  indolent  nature 
to  make  fitting  provision  for  any  of  them.  What  there 
was,  any  one  might  have,  only  he  could  not  trouble 
himself  to  make  it  more,  and,  if  it  grew  less,   each 


54  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

must  shift  for  himself.  This  father  of  a  family  seemed 
to  Philip  to  be  of  the  typical  bachelor  nature,  to  whom 
domestic  comfort  is  but  a  fancy  name  or  bondage,  who 
likes  to  come  in  and  go  out  when  he  likes,  even  at 
the  cost  of  cold  wretched  meals,  eaten  amid  the  unin- 
viting ruins-  of  the  general  repast ;  a  man  who  would 
walk  easily  through  life,  who  would  go  straight  when 
ihe  path  was  even,  but  would  not  level  for  himself; 
and  if  he  came  to  a  rut,  would  fell  the  very  tree  that 
should  shelter  those  who  would  come  after,  and  make 
a  temporary  bridge  of  it  for  himself,  and  go  on,  and 
forget  about  it.  And  yet,  just  because  of  his  jovial 
manner,  Philip  was  ready  to  give  him  the  excuse  that 
he  meant  nothing  and  did  not  even  know  the  weak- 
ness in  himself;  forgetting  that  a  man's  first  duty  is  to 
know  himself,  and  that  the  sins  of  such  culpable  igno- 
rance are  registered  against  us,  to  be  confronted  some 
day.  just  as  the  damage  done  by  a  drunkard  is  scored 
against  him  for  his  soberer  hours. 

Among  the  girls  in  the  drawing-room,  Philip 
gathered  particulars  of  the  domestic  past  of  the 
family.  One  evening  the  post  brought  him  a  letter 
from  his  mother,  and  as  he  read  it,  culling  sundry 
little  incidents  about  the  weather,  and  such  other 
public  property,  by  which  we  may  give  a  private 
epistle  the  coloring  of  a  social  event,  Sibyl  (who  al- 
ways ventured  to  be  rude,  because  she  believed  that 
she  could  do  so  with  a  grace),  took  up  the  envelope 
and  Hester,  looking  at  it  over  her  shoulder,  remarked  : 

"  What  nice  writing  1  " 


A    PORTRAIT    AND    A    PUZZLE.  55 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? "  said  Philip,  gratified. 
"  Mother  always  considers  she  writes  so  badly." 

''It  is  not  writing-masters'  good  writing,"  Hester 
returned.  "  It  is  a  writing  that  knows  a  great  deal 
more  than  can  be  taught  at  school." 

"  Do  you  believe  there  is  any  character  in  hand- 
writing ? "  asked  Sibyl. 

"  I  don't  know;  I  never  thought  about  it,"  Philip 
answered  ;  thinking  to  himself  that  he«  had  not  seen  a 
scrap  of  her  calligraphy. 

"There  is  character  in  handwriting,  just  because 
there  is  character  in  everything,"  Hester  observed. 

"Then  I'm  afraid  there  is  not  much  in  your  own, 
Hester,  love,"  said  Sibyl.  "  Papa  says  it  is  like  a 
common  clerk's." 

Philip  knew  it ;  he  had  seen  some  letters  she  had 
copied  for  her  father.  It  was  a  firm,  plain  black  hand, 
without  one  unnecessary  flourish — not  so  much  like  a 
common  clerk's  as  like  an  uncommonly  good  one's. 
Philip  had  looked  at  the  manuscript  with  genuine 
respect;  and  now  in  his  simple  manly  sincerity,  he 
said: 

"  I  shouldn't  draw  your  conclusion,  Miss  Sibyl. 
The  useful  qualities  that  are  necessary  to  what  you 
call  'a  common  clerk,'  are  sufficiently  rare  among 
ladies,  to  be  highly  characteristic." 

Hester  raised  her  dark  eyes  in  a  quick  grateful 
glance.  So  this  young  man  could  be  just,  and  justice 
was  the  very  quality  for  which  she  was  always  looking 
in  vain.     And  she  appreciated  it  all  the  more,  because 


56  G<  Mli    AND    DROSS. 

she  instinctively  felt,  what  Philip  himself  did  not  dis- 
tinctly know  yet, — that  he  was  not  prepossessed  with 
her,  .ind  that  it  went  against  his  grain,  even  thus 
slightly  to  contradict  Sybil. 

Sibyl  pouted.  What,  this  raw  youth  from  the 
country  had  opinions  which  he  dared  to  set  up  against 
hers  !  She  was  used  to  utter  any  absurd  dogma,  and 
to  find  all  opposition  suppressed  for  the  sake  of  her 
pretty  face.  Rather  tame,  that  sort  of  thing,  after  all. 
The  rider  likes  best  the  horse  which  needs  most 
breaking  in.  The  general  prizes  most  the  fortress 
which  took  the  longest  siege ;  and  the  vain  beauty 
cares  most  for  the  conquest  which  employed  the  whole 
artillery  of  her  charms.  There  is  a  delight  in  effort. 
It  would  be  quite  a  new  thing  to  try  to  talk  sense  un- 
der peril  of  reasonable  reproof. 

"  Isn't  it  strange  ?  "  said  Dora,  suddenly  rousing 
herself  from  a  long  dreary  gaze  into  the  fire.  "Out 
of  us  five,  only  you,  Mr.  Lewis,  have  a  mother,  or 
know  what  it  is  to  have  one  ! " 

"  Is  it  really  so  ?  "  Philip  answered. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Capel.  "I  think  you  have 
heard  that  my  father  once  had  an  appointment  as  ar- 
chitect and  surveyor  to  a  large  estate  in  Italy.  That 
was  when  he  was  first  married.  It  was  not  a  health- 
ful district,  and  as  soon  as  each  of  us  was  a  few 
months  old,  we  wrere  sent  to  England  to  be  brought 
up  by  an  aunt  of  papa's.  Mamma  died  about  a  year 
after  Hester  was  born,  and  then  papa  gave  up  his 
post  and  came  home." 


A    PORTRAIT    AND    A    PUZZLE.  57 

"Was  Mrs.  Capel  English?"  Philip  asked,  just 
to  show  a  civil  interest. 

"  Oh  yes !  "  said  Miss  Capel.  "  She  was  the  or- 
phan daughter  of  a  gentleman  in  the  East-India  Com- 
pany's service,  and  she  was  an  only  child.  So  that 
relations  are  very  scarce  with  us.  We  never  knew 
any  except  our  great  aunt,  who  is  dead  now,  and 
Dora  herself." 

Hester  had  left  the  room  in  the  midst  of  this  col- 
loquy, and  now  returned  with  a  picture.  It  was  the 
portrait  that  hung  in  her  bedroom.  She  put  it  before 
Philip,  saying;  "That  is  mamma,  painted  during  her 
honey-moon."  It  was  her  form  of  thanks  for  his  vin- 
dication of  herself. 

Philip  took  it,  and  put  it  in  a  good  light,  and  the 
wayward  vain  face  smiled  into  his.  "  She  must  have 
been  pretty,"  he  said,  and  could  not  conscientiously 
say  more.  Then  he  looked  up  at  the  three  sisters, 
then  back  to  it  again,  with  a  sudden  eagerness,  like  a 
person  whose  mind  half  catches  the  solution  of  a 
problem. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said  ;  "but  it  seems  familiar  to 
me." 

"  Perhaps  through  some  resemblance  in  us  ;  "  sug- 
gested Sibyl. 

Philip  again  glanced  from  the  picture  to  her. 
"It  is  like  you,  something,"  he  said  ;  "not  a  bit  like 
Miss  Capel  or  Miss  Hester.  But  you  look  almost 
younger  than  this  portrait,  while  I  seem  to  know  it  as 
an  older  face, — as  quite  an  old  face." 


58  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


"  Some  chance  resemblance,"  observed  Dora. 
••  You  may  chase  it  through  your  memory  as  long  as 
you  like,  but  how  can  you  recall  it  when,  very  likely, 
you  only  saw  it  opposite  you  in  some  omnibus  or  rail- 
way carriage  ? " 

"  But  doesn't  it  haunt  you,  not  to  be  able  to  re- 
member ? "  asked  Hester. 

"  There  are  matters  above  our  philosophy,"  said 
Sibyl.  "  Once  I  saw  a  picture  that  struck  me  as  like 
somebody.  I  could  not  tell  who  it  was  like,  and  I 
looked  at  it  every  day  for  a  month  (you  must  know  it 
was  in  a  broker's  shop  in  Great  Queen  street),  but 
could  never  fathom  its  mysterious  familiarity.  Years 
after,  I  was  introduced  for  the  first  time  to  somebody 
with  that  very  face.  .1  think  coming  influences,  as 
well  as  coming  events,  cast  their  shadows  before  !  " 

Philip  looked  up  at  Sibyl  and  caught  her  eyes  as 
she  spoke.  Was  it  his  sheer  masculine  vanity  that 
made  him  feel  sure  that  he  was  the  "  somebody." 

"  But  was  it  a  coming  influence  ?  "  asked  Hester. 
"  Come,  Sibyl,  for  the  sake  of  the  science  of  mental 
mystery  you  must  answer  our  questions.  Did  the 
coming  influence  ever  arrive  ? 

"  Yes — no — not  yet — I  don't  know,"  said  Sibyl ; 
hastily  rising,  and  looking  out  of  the  window. 
"  There's  such  a  glorious  moon  !  " 

"  Hester,"  said  Miss  Capel,  "  will  you  take 
mamma's  portrait  back  to  our  room,  in  case  papa 
should  come  in  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  !  "  and  Hester  obeyed,  instantly. 


A    PORTRAIT    AND    A    PUZZLE. 


59 


"  Never  speak  of  it  to  my  father,  if  you  please,  sir," 
said  Miss  Capel.  "  He  cannot  bear  any  mention  of 
our  mother.  It  is  such  a  pity,  because  it  prevents  us 
knowing  anything  about  her.  But  it  is  the  turn  that 
great  sorrow  takes  with  some  natures." 

"  I  shall  remember,"  Philip  answered  reverently, 
and  thought  to  himself;  "but  I  wish  that  picture  did 
not  puzzle  me  so.  I  should  say  I  had  seen  it  some- 
where, grown  wrinkled  and  with  gray  hair  ! " 


CHAPTER  V. 


"  FAIR  AND  HONORABLE." 


LIZABETH  CAPEL  spent  much  of  her 
mornings  in  the  kitchen.  She  did  not  ex- 
pect one  girl  to  make  six  beds,  keep  ten 
rooms  in  order,  attend  to  three  fires,  do  the 
marketing,  and  prepare  the  dinner  without  any  assist- 
ance except  a  charwoman  on  washing  and  scrubbing- 
up  days.  What  sort  of  livelihood  do  our  fine  ladies 
think  they  could  make  themselves,  when  they  demand 
such  energetic  genius  at  the  modest  rate  of  board  and 
ten  pounds  a  year  ! 

It  was  Saturday,  the  Saturday  after  the  family 
visit  to  St.  Monica's.  Elizabeth  went  down  as  usual. 
Popps  was  cleaning  the  kitchen  grate.  It  was  not 
generally  done  on  Saturday,  when  there  was  quite 
enough  to  do  without  that.  But  Elizabeth  took  no 
notice.  She  knew  that,  in  the  long  run,  one  keeps 
nearest  the  general  groove,  by  permitting  occasional 
departures  therefrom.  So  Elizabeth  took  down  a 
bowl  and  began  to  pare  the  potatoes  for  dinner.  It 
might  spoil  her  hands,  but  then  Popps  could  never 
keep  hers  clean  enough  for   Elizabeth's  dainty  ideas 


FAIR   AND    HONORABLE.  6l 


of  cooking.  "  And  nobody  looks  at  my  hands/'  Eliz- 
abeth thought;  "a  little  pumice-stone  afterwards  and 
they  are  well  enough  !  " 

"It's  an  awful  hot  morning,  Miss,"  said  Popps, 
giving  the  fender  any  amount  of  friction. 

"  Well,  I  have  on  a  shawl  because  I  feel  it  cold," 
answered  Elizabeth  ;  "  but  you  are  doing  warm  work, 
Popps." 

"  Oh !  I  was  hot  afore,"  she  returned. 

"  Why,  you  have  scrubbed  out  the  kitchen  al- 
ready," said  Miss  Capel,  getting  a  mat  to  guard  her 
feet  from  the  possible  damp.  She  was  never  so 
troublesome  to  other  people  as  to  catch  the  slightest 
malady  she  could  avoid.  "  How  ever  have  you 
found  time  for  that  so  early?" 

"  Oh,  I  got  up  !  "  answered  Popps.  "  There's 
times  when  one  can't  rest,  and  then  what's  the  good 
of  laying  a-bed  ?  If  one  gets  up  and  slaves  away, 
perhaps  one  may  expect  to  get  a  bit  of  peace  when 
one  really  wants  it." 

Elizabeth  went  on  paring  the  potatoes.  She  felt 
something  in  the  air.  Was  Popps  thinking  of  "  bet- 
tering herself? "  She  did  not  begin  bitterly  to  reflect 
on  ingratitude,  and  to  moralize  that  the  old  charities 
and  patiences  are  bought  out  for  a  pound  or  two  more 
a  year.  She  had  tried  to  make  Popps  a  good  ser- 
vant, expressly  that  the  girl  might  get  on.  She  had 
an  ambition  for  Popps.  Fancy  her  rising  to  be  some 
nobleman's  upper-servant ;  and  coming,  a  comely, 
middle-aged  woman  in  a  good  black  silk,  to  call  upon 


62  COLD    AND    DROSS. 


her,  when  she  was  an  old  lady  !  How  nice  it  would 
be  !  Elizabeth  almost  smelt  the  sweetness  of  the 
nosegay  that  Popps  would  be  sure  to  bring  from  her 
master's  grand  garden  ! 

Popps  dropped  the  poker,  and,  in  picking  it  up, 
knocked  over  the  tongs. 

"  There's  a  spirit  in  the  things  !  "  she  cried,  set- 
ting them  up  with  the  sort  of  shake  that  nurses  give  to 
naughty  children.  "And  now,  Miss,  what  had  I  bet- 
ter do  next  ?  " 

"Why,  you  have  not  washed  up  the  breakfast- 
dishes  yet;"  Elizabeth  suggested,  mildly. 

"  My — no  more  I  haven't !  If  I  didn't  sheer  for- 
get 'em  !  "  And  Popps  got  out  a  clean  towel,  and 
proceeded  to  wash  the  cups  with  extra  care  and  de- 
liberation, as  if  to  defeat  "the  spirit"  that  might  have 
transferred  its  quarters  from  the  fire-irons  to  them. 

"  Miss,"  said  Popps,  all  of  a  sudden,  in  a  very 
quiet  tone  ;  "do  you  think  there's  any  harm  in  a  gal 
thinking  of  getting  married  ?  " 

"Harm!"  ejaculated  Elizabeth  in  astonishment. 
"  Of  course  not.  God  means  most  people  to  get 
married." 

"I  didn't  know  whether  you'd  think  so,  Miss," 
said  Popps,  in  a  relieved  manner.  "  The  girl  next 
door  said  you'd  be  sure  to  set  your  face  agen  all  such 
rubbish  ;  being  single  yourself." 

"But  marriage  is  anything  but  rubbish.  And  who 
is  thinking  of  marrying  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth,  amused. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  !     Not  me,  I'm  sure.     I'd  al- 


FAIR    AND    HONORABLE.  63 

ways  something  else  to  do  than  think  about  such 
things.  There  was  never  any  of  the  boys  waiting 
about  for  me  at  the  school  door,  as  there  was  for  the 
other  gals,  was  there,  Miss?"  said'Popps,  all  in  a 
flutter.  "  But  if  it's  ordained,  as  they  say,  that  every 
woman  has  one  chance  in  her  life,  whether  she  takes 
it  or  leaves  it,  then  I  suppose  what  is  to  be,  will  be, 
Miss." 

"Very  likely;  Popps,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  And  there's  that  Tom  Moxon,  the  carpenter's 
man,  always  coming,  talking  his  nonsense  !  I've  told 
him  to  go  along  with  him,  ever  so  often,  but  he  won't, 
and  he's  even  took  to  coming  to  chapel — he  has. 
And  there's  his  mother  goin'  about  talking  how  bad  he 
looks,  and  what  gals  deserve  that  makes  fools  of  a 
decent  young  man.  She's  a  making  a  fool  of  herself, 
I  reckon  ! " 

"  What  nonsense  does  young  Moxon  talk  ?  "  asked 
Elizabeth,  with  all  appearance  of  gravity. 

"•  Oh  !  about  how  nice  it  is  to  have  a  home  of 
one's  own,  and  having  nobody  to  love  him,  and  how 
his  mother's  ideas  of  things  an't  his'n  (shouldn't  I  like 
to  tell  her  that?),  and  how  he  thought  what  a  good 
wife  I'd  make,  the  first  time  he  saw  me,  that  day  when 
he  came  to  me.id  the  dresser  drawer,  and  I  was  a 
turning  the  blue  and  black  striped  skirt  you  gave  me, 
and  wouldn't  it  be  better  for  me  if  I  had  somebody  to 
take  care  of  me  ?  and  that  last  always  rouses  me  up  to 
tell  him  that  I  never  knowed  an  old  maid  that  didn't 
get  on   very   well,  until   she  let   herself  be  gulled  by 


64  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


some  brother  or  nephew  or  something  in  the  shape  of 
a  man  ;  and  then  he  says  back,  '  that's  in  the  nature 
of  women,  if  they  haven't  a  husband  to  look  after 
them.'" 

"  And  is  that  all  he  says  ?  "  Elizabeth  inquired 
again. 

"  Well,  Miss,"  and  Popps  industriously  rubbed  up 
the  slop-basin,  with  her  back  towards  her  mistress ; 
"  he  kep  on  that  way  for  a  long  time  and  just  when- 
ever he  came  to  work,  or  when  I  run  agen  him  by 
chance  in  the  street.  But  last  night  he  met  me  as  I 
was  a-coming  down  Liquorpond  street,  and  says  he, 
'  I  wants  to  speak  serious,  once  for  all.  If  its  agree- 
able to  you,  I'd  like  to  come  a-cortin'  ye,  fair  and  hon- 
orable. When  a  working  man's  come  to  be  three  and 
twenty,'  says  he,  '  its's  time  he  was  a-planted  out  on 
his  own  account,  if  his  timbers  is  to  be  anything  like 
full  at  cutting-down  time.'" 

"  And  what  did  you  say,  Popps  ?  "  asked  Eliza- 
beth. 

"  Oh,  I  laughed  him  off,  Miss  !  I  wasn't  agoing 
to  say  nothink  till  I  spoke  to  you,  Miss.  I  wasn't 
agoing  to  give  my  word  all  of  a  suddent,  as  I'd  nobody 
but  him  to  consider." 

"And  what  do  you  really  think,  Popps?"  Eliza- 
beth inquired. 

Popps  was  facing  her  now.  "  Well,  I  don't  know, 
Miss,"  she  said.  "  He's  a  good  sort  of  young  fellow, 
that  I  do  believe.  He  ain't  a  teetotaller,  but  he  never 
takes  but  his   half-pint  at  dinner  and  supper.     You'll 


FAIR    AND    HONORABLE.  65 

not  see  him  hanging  about  the  Public,  Miss,  an'  he 
gets  his  thirty  shillings  a  week  regular  all  the  year 
round,  and  he  says  he  is  putting  by  to  start  in  busi- 
ness for  himself.  There's  a  many  begins  worse  off 
than  we  should  be,  Miss." 

"  But  do  you  like  him,  Popps  ? "  said  Elizabeth, 
gently.  "  Do  you  think  you  could  love  to  obey  and 
serve  him — that  is  the  chief  thing  for  you  to  con- 
sider." 

"  Laws,  Miss  !  what's  the  good  of  saying  anything 
about  that  ?  "  returned  the  maid.  "  It  stands  for  so 
little.  Allays  puts  me  in  mind  of  Old  Mother  O'Brien, 
the  apple-woman,  who  was  forever  a-talking  about 
doin'  this,  that  and  tother  to  please  her  'Master,' 
while  all  the  time  the  old  man  did  not  know  his  very 
life  was  his  own.  And  there's  our  oilman's  wife,  just 
the  same,  an^  a-telling  the  people  over  the  counter,  as 
how  her  husband  never  spends  an  evening  away  from 
home'  and  I'm  sure  he  hadn't  need,  for  she's  always 
a-looking  after  the  other  men !  I  mind  what  you  said 
to  me  when  you  took  me  as  servant,  Miss.  Says  I, 
'I'm  feared  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  the  ways  of  a 
gentleman's  house.'  Says  you,  '  Popps,  you've  done 
very  well  in  all  the  duties  God  has  given  you  yet,  and 
I  don't  doubt  you'll  go  on  the  same.'  That's  how 
Tom  Moxon  ought  to  feel,  an'  if  he  can't  trust  me,  he 
can  just  leave  me." 

"  Then  how  do  you  mean  to  make  up  your  mind  ?  " 
asked  Elizabeth. 


66 


••  Please,  Miss,  as  yon  don't  seem  particular  agen 

id  like  to  try  him  I  '" 

"  Very  well,"  said  Miss  Capel.  "You  mean  you 
would  like  to  know  him  a  little  better  firs! 

"  An'  In-  oughter  to  do  the  same.  '  Ditto,'  as  they 
say  in  the  bills.  He  ain't  never  seen  me  in  a  temper 
yet,  Mis 

"  Perhaps  he  never  will,"1  said  Elizabeth.  "  I  hope 
not." 

"So,  Miss,  you  won't  look  upon  it  as  a  certain 
sign  that  I  must  be  a-neglectin'  of  my  work,  if  some 
of  them  old  ladies  who  has  nothin'  to  do  but  watch 
other  folks,  tell  you  they  sees  me  a-talkin'  to  a  young 
man,  and  they'll  warrant  I'm  a-coming  to  no  good  ! 
You'll  know  who  it  is,  an'  all  about  it." 

Elizabeth  sat  thinking.  This  house  was  Popps' 
home, — the  only  home  the  girl  had.  Was  it  right 
that  it  should  have  all  her  honest  work  and  faithful 
interest,  and  give  nothing  in  return  ?  Were  all  its  ob- 
ligations fulfilled  by  board  and  lodging  and  the  ten 
pounds  a  year?  There  was  a  ray  of  sunshine  coming 
into  the  hard  rough  life  now;  should  it  not  be  made 
as  bright  and  pure  as  possible  ? 

"  You  may  invite  Mr.  Moxon  to  take  tea  with  you 

y  other  Sunday,  Popps,"  she  said  kindly  ;  "  begin- 
ning from  to-morrow." 

"  Mr.  Moxon  !"  Popps  bridled.  How  respectable 
it  sounded  ! 

"Mrs.  Edwardes  is  a-coming  to-morrow,  Miss," 
she  answered.     "  You  told  me  to  ask  her,  and  I  asked 


FAIR    AND    HONORABLE.  6j 

her  yesterday,  and  I  ain't  a-going  to  put  her  off  for 
Tom.  It  would  be  a  bad  look-out  to  begin  by  dis- 
appointing a  poor  body  as  doesn't  look  as  if  she  had 
many  treats." 

"  Mr.  Moxon  can  come  too,  if  he  likes,"  said  Eliza- 
beth. "  It  may  make  it  less  strange  for  his  first  visit. 
When  is  he  to  get  the  answer,  Popps  ? " 

"  Please,  Miss,  he  said,  he'd  look  in  this  afternoon, 
on  his  way  home,"  answered  Popps,  demurely. 

"  Then  if  you  will  tell  me  when  he  comes,  I  will 
just  step  down  and  speak  to  him.  And  I  hope  it  will 
go  on  comfortably,  Popps,  and  that  you  will  both  be 
very  happy." 

Popps  did  not  say  even  "  Thank  you."  As  Miss 
Capel  glanced  at  her  servant  as  she  passed  out  of  the 
kitchen,  she  saw  grimy  marks  round  her  eyes.  The 
black-leaded  hands  had  wiped  away  a  tear  or  two. 

"  God  in  heaven  bless  her  ! "  said  Popps,  talking 
to  herself  in  her  excitement.  "  And  to  know  what  a 
bad  cold  in  her  head  she  caught  that  blowin'  evening 
when  I  left  the  areay  door  open  to  say  some  foolery 
to  Tom  on  the  steps  !  I'd  fancy  it  was  downright 
wicked  even  to  think  of  leavin'  such  a  hangel,  if  the 
werry  Bible  didn't  tell  us  that  a  man  shall  leave  his 
own  father  and  mother  to  cleave  to  his  wife,  which 
Tom  hisself  answered  me  with,  when  I  made  believe 
to  put  him  off  with  why  didn't  he  keep  to  his  poor  old 
widow  mother, — wouldn't  she  be  lonely  without  him  ? 
Tom's  very  smart  with  his  answers,  and  says  fine 
long  words  straight  off.     I   likes  smart  men.     It's  a 


68 


GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


pleasure  to  hear  'em  talk,  even  if  you  don't  quite  make 
it  out.  And  won't  I  tell  the  girl  next  door  that  I  have 
got  leave  to  ask  my  young  man  to  tea,  just  like  any 
lady  !  '  Old  maids  is  so  spiteful ! '  says  she.  Is  they, 
indeed  ?  If  a  virtuous  woman  is  far  above  rubies,  as 
Solomon  says,  what's  the  value  of  a  wise  man  as  knows 
her  when  he  sees  her  ?  Too  high  to  be  very  common, 
I'm  thinkin,  and  that's  why  Missis  never  came  across 
him!" 


CHAPTER  VI. 


POOR   DORA. 


IBYL  had  been  out  for  a  walk  before  dinner. 
She  came  home  half  an  hour  late,  and 
looked  as  if  she  had  been  walking  very- 
fast.  And  when  Elizabeth  innocently  asked 
her,  where  she  had  been,  she  only  answered  by  the 
pert  inquiry,  "Where  do  you  suppose?"  But  Sibyl 
got  up  and  kissed  her  sister  the  very  next  moment, 
and  Philip  Lewis  thought  what  a  sweet  nature  it  must 
be,  that  was  so  very  prompt  to  atone  ! 

Sibyl  and  Dora  spent  the  evening  together.  They 
often  did.  Sibyl  practiced  her  music  and  Dora  read 
poetry,  and  they  both  carried  on  an  interjectional 
sort  of  conversation.  But  this  afternoon,  Sibyl  was 
self-absorbed,  and  answered  "  Yes"  and  "  No,"  as  if 
she  scarcely  heard  what  her  cousin  said. 

"  Sibyl,  I  have  written  a  poem,  which  I  have  not 
shown  you  yet,"  said  Dora. 

"  Have  you,  dear  ? "  she  replied,  her  fingers 
wandering  over  the  notes  of  the  piano  in  a  way  very 
different  from  her  usual  crisp  and  brilliant  execution. 


70  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


"  And  I  have  sent  it  to  the  West-End  Magazine, 
and  I  expect  an  answer  by  the  last  post  to-night ;  " 
Dora  went  on.  "  I  think  they  will  take  it  this  time, 
Sibyl." 

"  If  they  are  wise,  dear,"  she  replied. 

"  You  don't  ask  me  to  show  it  to  you,"  observed 
Dora,  wistfully. 

"I  was  just  thinking  how  naughty  it  was  of  you  to 
send  it  away  without  doing  so,"  responded  Sibyl. 

"  But  I've  kept  a  copy,"  said  Dora  triumphantly. 
I'll  read  it  aloud  to  you  ;  for  if  you  tried  to  puzzle 
through  my  writing,  it  would  lose  all  its  beauty.  It 
is  called  '  A  Broken  Idol,'  and  I  do  think  it  is  the 
best  piece  I  ever  wrote  ;  "  she  added,  wistfully,  and 
then  began  to  read  : 

"  You  are  the  shadow  of  a  vanished  form, 
Your  simple  majesty  to  me  is  more 
Than  aught  else  of  earth's  beauty  ;  calling  back 
The  face  that  smiled  in  dreams  I  dream  no  more ! 

"  Methinks  that  in  my  heart  you  soon  might  stand, 
Close  to  the  spot  whereon  the  other  stood. 
That  idol,  broken  now  !     Ah,  many  gods 
Of  many  hearts  are  only  gilded  wood  ! 

"  You  are  so  like  !     I  think  I  might  forget 
You  are  not  she,  that  age  has  touched  my  brow, 
Only  I  see  the  glances  that  I  won 
You  shyly  turn  upon  my  grandson  now. 

"  And  so  I  recollect  that  all  is  changed. 
Mine  are  October  days,  yours,  laughing  June ; 
At  the  grave's  door  I  chant  my  psalm  ;  you  sit 
And  sing  youth's  old  song  to  your  own  sweet  tune. 


POOR    DORA.  71 


"  Be  true  to  him  who  joins  his  voice  with  yours  ; 
Give  him  a  holy  treasure  in  your  name. 
Yet  did  he  know  what  I  know,  he  would  fear 
Lest  it  should  prove  the  spirit  were  the  same  !" 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  ? "  the  poet  asked, 
anxiously. 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  beautiful  !  "  said  Sibyl. 

"  I  don't  think  you  care  for  it,"  sighed  poor 
Dora. 

"  I'm  sure  I  do,"  said  Sibyl,  pettishly. 

"  Don't  I  say  it  is  very  beautiful  ?  If  you  will  not 
believe  me,  how  am  I  to  convince  you  ?  " 

Dora  said  no  more.  Sibyl  was  not  thinking  of  her 
or  her  poetry  just  then  ;  that  was  all.  But  why  was 
there  not  something  in  it  so  sweet  and  so  burning  as 
to  compel  her  to  listen  ?  The  trees  were  growing  and 
the  beasts  were  feeding  when  Orpheus  began  to  play, 
but  then  they  left  off  to  follow  him  ! 

Dora  lay  back  on  the  sofa  and  looked  up  at  the 
bit  of  grayish  blue  sky  which  she  could  see  between 
the  window  curtains,  and  it  came  to  her  with  a  great 
-pang, — one  of  those  pangs  which  are  always  birth- 
pangs — that  her  powers  of  expression  represented  the 
whirl  of  emotion  within  her,  much  as  that  little  bit  of 
grayish  sky  represented  the  glorious  firmament,  with 
its  golden  dawns  and  its  opal  sunsets.  The  poor 
little  orphan  had  within  her  a  real  spark  of  that 
creative  spirit  which  foresaw  the  swift  rivers  and  the 
mighty  hills,  while  yet  the  earth  was  without  form  and 
void.     She  had  never  seen  a  mountain,  but  she  knew 


72  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

more  about  them  than  Philip  Lewis,  who  was  born 
among  them.  She  had  only  seen  the  sea  twice,  off 
Brighton,  but  she  knew  that  it  has  a  secret,  like  a 
dumb  man  who  goes  moaning  what  he  cannot  articu- 
late and  sometimes  rises  in  wrath  because  people 
cannot  understand  !  Dora  felt  a  longing  in  her  heart 
for  something — she  sometimes  thought  it  was  to  be  a 
poet.  She  felt  something  leap  within  her  to  hear  the 
praises  of  the  dead  who  left  words  and  works  to  live 
after  them.  Oh  how  hard  it  was  to  find,  that  not  even 
Sibyl  could  feel  interest  in  her  poor  work  !  Not  even 
Sibyl — generally  so  full  of  sympathy!  Poor  Dora! 
her  genius  had  not  yet  that  insight  which  often  refuses 
to  take  things  at  their  own  valuation.  Sibyl  found 
sweet  words  and  tender  tones  very  easy,  generally, 
and  used  them  as  freely  and  disastrously  as  paper- 
money  circulates  in  a  country  which  has  little  bullion. 
But  there  are  moods  when  even  sweet  words  cost 
something,  and  Sibyl  could  not  afford  them  then. 
Poor  Dora  !  It  is  certainly  trying  to  find  a  stone 
where  we  expected  bread  ;  but  the  worst  part  of  the 
trial,  is  our  own  folly  in  looking  for  a  loaf  in  a  quarry  ! 
But,  like  all  geniuses  (and  there  are  many  more 
geniuses  than  the  world  hears  of),  Dora  caught  one 
sweet  blossom  from  the  prickly  bed  where  her  heart 
had  fallen.  "  There  must  be  so  many  more  who  try 
and  fail  like  me!"  she  thought.  "So  many  who 
mean  so  much  and  can  give  out  so  little !  It  must 
come  to  something,  somehow,  for  God  is  never 
wasteful." 


POOR    DORA.  73 


She  lay  there  quietly,  and  Sibyl  went  on  with  her 
crooning  music,  and  Hester  entered  with  a  bound, 
which  landed  her  in  the  easy-chair. 

"  So,  somebody  has  a  sweetheart !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  Sibyl,  starting  up, 
"  with  a  vivid  flush  upon  her  face. 

"  Popps — the  carpenter — he  is  down  in  the  kitchen 
and  Lizzie  is  talking  to  him.  She  has  just  been  tell- 
ing me  all  about  it."  . 

"What  a  ridiculous  thing!"  said  Sibyl,  sitting 
down  ;  "  the  idea  of  your  coming  in  crying  out  about 
that.  Just  like  you  !  And  did  I  not  always  say 
there  would  be  some  such  end  to  Popps  !  Elizabeth 
spoiled  her.  The  only  way  to  keep  these  girls  in 
order  is  to  keep  them  in  their  place  !  " 

"  Some  such  end  ?  "  laughed  Hester.  "  Why,  you 
don't  know  how  pleased  Lizzie  is.  The  sweetheart 
is  to  have  permission  to  take  tea  in  the  kitchen,  to- 
morrow." 

"Well,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!"  Sibyl 
exclaimed  in  scorn.  "  One  would  suppose  the  girl 
was  at  home  !  And  what  impudence  of  her  to  dare 
to  tell  about  a  beau  !  And  he  coming  to  tea,  using 
the  tea  and  sugar  and  bread  and  butter  !  Who  else 
allows  such  goings-on  ?  " 

"  Is  not  a  servant  a  woman  ? "  asked  Hester. 

"  A  servant  is  a  servant,"  said  Sibyl.  "  If  you  or 
I  were  governesses,  Hester,  do  you  suppose  we  should 
get  such  indulgences  ?  " 


74  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


"  Perhaps  not ;  but  we  should  be  very  glad  if  we 
did/'  returned  the  other. 

"  We  shall  not  find  our  own  lives  so  easy  that  we 
need  to  lay  them  down  to  be  trodden  under  foot  by 
other  people;  "  Sibyl  went  on. 

"  O,  Sibyl  !  never  mind  that  just  now,"  Hester  said, 
with  a  lausrh.  "Here's  a  bit  of  sunshine  come  into 
the  house  to-day.  Don't  talk  about  the  rain  that  may 
come  to-morrow  !  " 

"  Sunshine,  indeed  !  "  scoffed  Sibyl.  "  Not  sun- 
shine for  you  !  What  has  it  to  do  with  you,  I  should 
like  to  know?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Hester  !  "  Perhaps  nothing 
has  anything  to  do  with  any  of  us.  I  suppose  it  need 
not  affect  us,  if  every  face  but  our  own  was  bathed  in 
tears,  and  the  very  leaves  came  out  black  on  the 
trees ! " 

"  And  I  am  not  so  sure  it  is  sunshine  for  anybody," 
Sibyl  pursued.  "  The  carpenter's  man  gets  a  pound 
or  two  a  week,  I  suppose.  And  they'll  have  a  dozen 
children,  and  he'll  take  to  ill-using  his  wife,  and  getting 
tips)7,  or  else  he'll  have  an  accident,  and  she'll  have  to 
go  out  charing,  instead  of  living  in  a  nice  house  and 
having  good  meals  and  ten  pounds  a  year  to  spend  all 
on  herself.  Elizabeth  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  encour- 
age such  madness.  If  she  really  wishes  the  girl  well, 
she  ought  to  tell  her  that  she  can't  stay  here  unless  she 
gives  up  all  such  folly;  and  if  she  won't,  let  her  go,  and 
ten  chances  to  one,  she'd  have  to  leave  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  that  would  put  an  end  to  it  naturally." 


POOR   DORA.  75 


"  Do  you  think  '  out  of  sight'  is  sure  to  be  '  out  of 
mind,'  Sibyl  ?  "  asked  Dora,  rather  sadly. 

"  With  these  common  people,  yes  ;"  said  the  young 
lady.  "  Is  it  likely  the  young  fellow  would  go  about 
by  himself,  and  stand  mute  at  the  corner  of  the  street, 
when  there  were  a  dozen  girls  better  than  Popps  to 
speak  to  ?  What  can  he  see  in  Popps  ?  What  is 
there  in  her  for  him  to  see  ?  What  do  you  suppose 
they  can  talk  about  together  ?  Just  their  wages,  and 
their  savings  and  their  work,  and  perhaps  the  Sunday's 
text." 

"  True  enough,"  said  Dora  ;  "  their  souls  are  shut 
in  such  thick  husks  of  ignorance,  that  they  cannot  get 
near  each  other ;  and  how  can  there  be  tender  love 
without  soul-fellowship  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  observed  Hester ;  "  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  one's  wages  and  savings,  not  to  say 
one's  work,  and  the  text,  are  as  good  topics  as  the 
last  new  novel,  and  the  latest  song,  and  the  choicest 
scandal,  and  everybody's  income  except  one's  own. 
And  how  should  you  like  to  hear  an  aristocrat  speak 
of  you  and  your  grade,  as  you  are  speaking  of  Popps 
and  hers,  Sibvl?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  quite  different !  "  said  Dora.  "  Given 
a  certain  elevation,  and  all  mankind  are  equal." 

"  I  can't  think  how  you  can  talk  such  nonsense, 
Hester,"  cried  Sibyl,  in  indignation.  "  Put  it  to  this 
simple  test :  what  is  there  about  me  that  would  pre- 
vent me  from  marrying  a  nobleman  ?  Don't  I  know 
how   to  dress  myself  if  I  had  the  means  ?     Don't  I 


76  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


know  how  to  behave  ?  But  just  fancy  me  marrying 
this  carpenter  !  " 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  see  it  from  the  nobleman's 
stand-point,"  said  Hester. 

"  I  never  before  knew  that  you  worshipped  mere 
rank,"  remarked  Dora;  with  an  emphasis  signifying 
that  Hester  had  hitheito  held  one  position  in  her 
good  opinion,  but  had  now  forfeited  it. 

"  I  don't,  I  don't !  "  she  protested  eagerly  ;  "but 
I  believe  there  is  only  one  equality  by  which  you  can 
make  any  rule,  and  that  is  universal  human  nature, 
which  is  the  one  stratum  running  under  all  sorts  of 
cultivation." 

"  But  you  set  up  rank  as  something  above  admit- 
ting genius,  or  learning,  or  energy  ;"  said  Dora. 

"  Or  beauty,  or  grace,  or  refinement !  "  cried  Sibyl. 

"  It  does  not  matter  what  I  set  up,"  answered 
Hester, with  a  quiet  laugh  ;  "  for  it  admits  them  every 
day,  if  well  balanced  by  the  safe  ballast  of  wealth. 
But  as  far  as  I  can  see,  it  makes  as  particular  excep- 
tion in  their  favor  as  Sibyl  would,  if,  out  of  marked 
love  for  some  individual  merit,  she  married  a  working- 
man." 

"Don't  use  such  absurd  illustrations!"  sneered 
Sibyl,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Here  comes  Lizzie  !  "  said  Hester,  who  was  sit- 
ting opposite  the  open  door,  and  could  see  the  stair- 
case— "  Lizzie  with  some  chrysanthemums  in  her  right 
hand  and  a  letter  in  her  left." 

"The  chrysanthemums  for  myself — the  letter  for 


POOR    DORA. 


77 


Dora,"  explained  Lizzie,  entering,  and  handing  the 
packet.  "  See !  It  is  lucky  to  be  kind  to  a  young 
courting,  couple.  Moxon  has  brought  these  for 
Popps.  I  went  down  stairs  before  she  expected  me, 
and  I  heard  her  saying,  '  Offer  them  to  the  Missis, 
Tom.  A  flower  is  good  enough  to  give  anybody.'  So 
Tom  said,  would  I  be  kind  enough  to  accept  them — 
and  I  said  I  was  only  too  happy ;  flowers  being  very 
welcome  in  London  houses  at  this  dull  season  :  but  I 
added,  '  Popps  must  have  one  or  two,'  so  I  put  a  few 
into  the  kitchen  spill-holder,  and  here  are  the  rest." 

Dora,  who  had  opened  her  letter,  now  hurried  out 
of  the  room. 

"  Moxom  has  just  gone,"  Elizabeth  went  on.  "  He 
is  so  grateful  for  the  permitted  fortnightly  visit.  'It 
does  seem  rather  hard  to  only  meet  in  the  dark  streets 
and  all  sorts  o'  weather,'  he  says ;  '  but  it's  what 
most  of  us  has  to  do,  and  it's  to  be  hoped  that  those 
who  meet  with  such  kindness  as  yours,  will  deserve  it, 
ma'am.'  And  so  I've  got  over  the  first  proposal  of 
marriage  that  ever  I  had  any  responsibility  about !  " 

"I'm  sorry  you  show  yourself  so  simple,  Eliza- 
beth," said  Sibyl. 

"  If  a  sweetheart  of  yours  asked  Lizzie's  good 
graces,  you  would  like  her  to  deny  them,  wouldn't 
you  ?  "  asked  Hester. 

"It  will  be  time  enough  for  you  to  talk  about  my 
sweethearts,  when  you  see  them,"  said  Sibyl,  tartly  ; 
"  nor  do  I  suppose  they  will  care  for  anybody's  good 
graces  but  my  own  !  " 


78  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

"Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  Dora?"  asked 
Elizabeth — "  She  hurried  out  of  the  room  so  abruptly." 

"  She  had  a  letter,  hadn't  she  ? "  said  Sibyl,  care- 
lessly. "  Depend  on  it,  it  was  from  the  editor,  respect- 
ing a  poem.  She  has  been  sending  some  verses  to 
the  West-End  Magazine.  Of  course,  they  won't  take 
them." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Hester.  "Have  you  seen 
them?"  ' 

"She  read  them  to  me,"  Sibyl  answered  ;  "but  I 
was  not  in  the  humor  to  be  appreciative.  I  don't 
think  they  were  good." 

"  We  had  better  go  down  to  supper  now,"  said 
Lizzie.     "  Call  Dora,  Hester." 

Hester  went  to  her  chamber  and  knocked  at  the 
door.  There  was  no  answer  ;  so  presently  she  opened 
it  gently,  to  see  if  her  cousin  were  there.  The  room 
was  in  total  darkness. 

"Dora,"  she  said,  "are  you  here,  dear?  It  is 
supper-time." 

"  I  don't  want  any  supper,"  replied  the  girl,  in  a 
voice  that  was  peevish  with  the  tears  that  choked  it. 

"Was  that  a  letter  from  an  editor?"  Hester 
asked,  groping  toward  the  couch  whence  the  answer 
came. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dora,  shortly.  "  There  was  no  need 
to  ask  what  it  was  about !  " 

"  I'm  so  sorry,  dear,"  Hester  whispered,  bending 
over  her.  "  But  think  how  rich  you  are  compared 
with  me  !     I  can't  be  rejected,  because  I  can't  write, 


POOR    DORA.  79 


darling.  If  I  could  write  or  sing,  Dora,  I  would  be 
most  happy  to  write  or  sing  for  myself,  if  other  people 
did  not  care  to  hear  me.  Then  I  think  they  would 
listen  by  and  bye,  or  else  be  very  sorry  when  it  was 
too  late !  " 

There  was  a  stifled  sob  among  the  pillows. 
Hester  bent  down  hurriedly  and  the  cheek  that  she 
kissed  was  wet.  She  could  not  have  spoken  so  in 
the  light. 

Meantime  Elizabeth  lingered  in  the  drawing-room 
behind  both  her  sisters.  She  took  her  Bible  from  her 
pocket,  and  then  she  drew  towards  her  the  glass  with 
the  chrysanthemums,  and  her  fingers  hovered  over 
them  to  select  the  smallest.  It  was  a  tiny  white 
flower.  Hastily  she  drew  it  out  and  laying  it  between 
the  leaves  of  the  Holy  Book,  pressed  to  the  clasps, 
and  went  her  way  down  stairs  to  rejoin  the  others  in 
the  dining-room.  It  was  a  relic  of  a  Happiness 
which  God  had  let  her  help  to  perfect.  That  was 
something  to  remember  ! 

She  did  not  know  that  she  had  laid  the  blossom 
on  the  words, 

"  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  the  least 
of  these,  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


SWEET   SIBYL. 


ESTER  found  it  necessary  to  go  into  Sibyl's 
room  before  she  retired  for  the  night.  Her 
sister  was  there,  standing  before  the  mirror, 
gazing  at  something  in  her  toilet-drawer. 
But  she  shut  it  with  a  jerk  when  she  heard  Hester's 
step. 

Hester's  errand  took  her  to  the  wardrobe.  Sibyl 
sat  down  on  the  bed  and  watched  her.  Sibyl  was  not 
undressed,  but  she  had  taken  down  her  hair,  kicked 
off  her  shoes,  which  lay  at  right  angles  in  the  middle 
of  the  apartment,  and  donned  a  cashmere  toilet- 
jacket,  to  which  Hester  had  a  particular  objection,  be- 
cause it  had  a  false  color — magenta — and  because  it 
had  always  a  greasy  mark  round  the  neck,  where 
Sibyl's  locks  strayed  during  the  half  hours  that  she 
regularly  trifled  away  every  night  and  morning. 

"Doesn't  it  seem  hard  that  Popps  should  have  her 
ridiculous  proposals,  while  we  have  none,  Hester  ?  " 
Sibyl  said,  at  last ;  throwing  herself  back  on  the 
pillow. 


SWEET    SIBYL.  Si 


"  It  is  a  very  good  proposal  for  Popps,"  answered 
Hester  ;  "so  perhaps  if  you  had  one  as  fitting  to  you, 
you  would  call  it  ridiculous  too,  and  be  as  discontented 
as  ever." 

"  I  suppose  you  would  call  it  a  fitting  proposal  for 
me,  if  Mr.  Lewis  made  me  an  offer  ?  "  Sibyl  remarked. 
"  And  I  suppose  it  would  be.  I  believe  Miss  Winter, 
opposite,  is  setting  her  cap  at  him,  and  she  has  some 
money  of  her  own,  too.  But  he  would  never  look  at 
her.  At  least,  not  if  he  could  get  anybody  else  to 
look  at  him.  I  don't  believe  he  has  noticed  her  ex- 
istence." 

"  And  she  may  be  as  unconscious  of  his  •"  put  in 
Hester. 

"  She  will  have  a  humdrum  time  of  it  whoever  she 
may  be — the  woman  who  marries  Mr.  Lewis  ;"  Sibyl 
went  on.  "  He  has  his  mother  to  look  after,  and  he 
could  not  make  much  money  out  of  his  profession  for 
years  and  years  to  come.  Still  I  suppose  it  would  be 
better  than  to  be  a  governess  (with  a  sigh) ;  and  I  be- 
lieve Mr.  Lewis  would  make  me  an  offer  if  I  chose. 
Somebody  one  doesn't  care  for,  is  sure  to  be  ready 
enough  !  Heigho  !  Hester,  I  don't  think  I'd  care  to 
marry  at  all,  if  I  had  a  thousand  a  year  !  " 

"Well,  if  we're  to  mix  money  matters  in  such  a 
question,"  said  Hester,  impatiently  ;  "  then  I  think  an 
old  maid  is  happiest  when  she  has  her  own  living  to 
earn." 

Sibyl   did    not    seem   to   notice  this  remark.     "  I 

could  be  quite  happy  if  I  could  go  about  and  have 
4* 


GOLD    AND    DRl 

plenty  of  company,  and  all  sorts    of  nice  thing 

wear,"  she  said  ;  "and  if  I  could  do  that,  without  hav- 
ing somebody  dictating  to  me,  and  believing  me  to  be 
under  his  rule,  I  should  like-  it  all  the  better.  But  I 
shall  n  t   anything  nice  unless  I  marry.     And 

although  there  must  be  so  many  good  chances  in  the 
world,  they  do  not  seem  to  come  to  me.  There's  that 
Mr.  Willis;  it  is  very  fine  for  him  to  be  always  coming 
here,  talking  to  papa  and  looking  at  me.  What  is  the 
good  of  that  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  hated  him,  and  thought 
him  a  perfect  bore/'  interrupted  Hester. 

"  I  don't  care  for  him,  but  his  share  in  his  father's 
business  can't  be  worth  less  than  sixteen  hundred  a 
year.  If  he  made  me  an  offer,  I  don't  suppose  I 
should  refuse  it.  and  I  daresay  I  should  get  on  with 
him  as  well  as  with  anybody.  I  should  like  him  for 
the  comforts  he  had  brought  me.  Love  in  a  cottage 
isn't  my  style.  Hester.  It  would  soon  wear  out  my 
temper  and  my  looks,  and  they  are  all  that  any  man 
would  care  for.  Who  would  even  look  twice  at  me 
Hester?" 

There  was  just  a  touch  of  genuine  sadness  in  her 
last  words. 

"  O,  Hester,"  she  said,  presently  ;  "  T  could  be  so 
good,  if  I  had  but  half  the  chance  that  some  girls  have  ! 
If  we  had  been  but  a  little  better  off,  so  that  I  might 
have  gone  into  society,  where  some  tolerable  man  with 
a  good  income  might  have  taken  a  fancy  to  me  !  I 
should  have  made  him  a  good  wife — as  good  as  most — 


SWEET    SIBYL.  83 


as  good  as  he'd  deserve.  And  I  would  have  had  you 
to  stay  with  me,  and  taken  you  about,  till  I  had  got 
you  off,  too.  And  everybody  would  have  said  that  I 
was  a  most  excellent  woman.  And  yet  T  should  not 
be  really  better  than  I  shall  be  now.  There's  my 
music,"  she  continued  ;  "  if  I  could  be  a  great  singer 
or  a  first-class  performer,  earning  plenty  of  money 
pretty  easily,  and  everybody  making  a  fuss  over  me, 
I'm  sure  I  should  not  want  to  give  it  up  to  be  some 
nobody's  wife  ;  to  look  after  his  house,  and  to  think  of 
nothing  but  him.  But  I  shall  never  be  anything  par- 
ticularly clever.  I've  had  all  my  trouble  for  nothing, 
apparently.  Just  to  be  a  teacher,  traipsing  through 
the  streets  from  one  house  to  another,  and  invited  to 
parties  to  play,  when  nobody  else  is  inclined  !  And 
all  for  about  a  hundred  pounds  a  year,  or  very  little 
more  !  Not  enough  for  one  set  of  enjoyments,  and  too 
much  for  another.  For  if  I  can't  have  really  good 
clothes  to  wear,  and  servants  to  keep  my  house  in 
order,  I  think  I  would  rather  live  in  one  room  in  some 
place  where  I  needn't  bother  to  be  tidy  !  " 

"  Well,  it  is  a  pity  you  don't  count  even  your  music 
a  blessing,  after  all  the  money,  and  all  your  devotion 
to  it ;  so  that  father  and  Dora  and  even  Lizzie  seem  to 
think,  that  it  is  quite  a  grand  sacrifice  if  you  ever  give 
an  hour  to  anything  else,"  said  Hester.  She  spoke  bit" 
terly.  Sibyl's  confidences  always  embittered  Hester 
They  forced  her  to  feel  that  her  estimate  of  her  sister 
was  not  uncharitable.  And  this  was  the  sympathetic, 
romantic  artistic  nature  !     Hester  was  ready  to  shake 


84 


GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


the  dust  off  her  feet  at  a  world,  where  such  base  coin 
passed  current !  Poor  Hester !  too  angry  with  her 
short-sighted  fellow  mortals  to  remember  that  her 
Father  in  Heaven  had  provided  a  special  balm  for  her 
special  pain,  by  the  promise  of  an  everlasting  home  in 
a  kingdom,  where  the  simplest  shall  be  so  wise,  that 
the  "  vile  person  shall  no  more  be  called  liberal,  nor 
the  churl  said  to  be  bountiful'!  " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  NAIL  ON  THE  FLOOR. 


LONDON  kitchen,  even  on  a  bright  June 
day,  is  not  a  cheerful  place,  much  less  so  in 
November,  when  scarcely  the  faintest  ray 
of  sunshine  can  struggle  through  its  depths, 
and  even  the  poor  window-plants  have  ceased  their 
struggle  with  adverse  circumstances,  and  withdrawn 
their  shadowy  screen  from  the  wearisome  panorama 
of  muddy  feet. 

But  a.  light  honest  heart  makes  brightness  and 
beauty  about  it.  And,  after  all,  brightness  and  beauty 
are  but  comparative  things.  Angels  who  know  the 
crystal  sea  and  golden  city  may  pity  the  fairest  sunset 
landscape  that  ever  moved  mortal  poet  to  tears  ;  while 
that  same  poet  smiles  half  in  contempt  at  poor  Popps, 
enraptured  with  her  shining  covers  and  spotless  plates 
and  dishes,  with  the  scarlet  print  iron-holder,  bought 
the  night  before  in  Leather  Lane,  and  with  her  whole 
library,  a  gilt-edged  Bible  and  Bunyan's  Progress,  and 
about  half  a  dozen  smaller  volumes  all  ranged  along 
the  window-sill.  Popps  usually  kept  the  books  in 
paper  covers,  but  to-day  they  appeared  in  their  native 


86  GO]  D    AND    DR( 

glory  of  scarlet  and  blue.  "  What's  the  good  of  hav- 
ing things  nice,  if  you  don't  show  them  when  it  is  worth 
while  ? "  soliloquized  Popps,  as  she  stripped  them. 
"  And  if  they're  too  good  for  Tom  to  touch,  then  who's 
to  ever  touch  'em,  I  want  to  know  ?  " 

Popps  had  permission  to  take  some  of  a  simple 
tea-cake  with  which  Elizabeth  usually  regaled  the 
family  on  Sundays.  But  she  could  not  be  satisfied  to 
be  such  a  very  passive  party  to  the  entertainment  of 
her  Tom.  So  she  had  laid  out  sixpence  in  the  pur- 
chase of  six  half-penny  bunns  and  three  tiny  slips  of 
short-bread.  And  so  the  tea  was  set  on  the  kitchen- 
table  at  four  o'clock. 

Tom  Moxon  was  the  first  to  arrive.  He  had  tried 
to  be  so,  since  there  are  some  meetings  which  are 
most  agreeable  when  unwitnessed.  Tom  was  a  slight 
young  man  ;  dark,  with  a  pale  strongly  marked  coun- 
tenance, and  deep  set  gray  eyes  ;  and  instead  of  making 
himself  look  common  and  snobbish  in  ill-fitting  black, 
his  Sunday  garments,  in  make  and  material,  were  such 
as  would  afterwards  suit  his  working-day  duties. 
Tom  had  been  the  cleverest  scholar  in  the  National 
School,  and  they  had  wished  him  to  become  a  pupil- 
teacher,  but  that  career  had  sides  which  did  not  .suit 
the  lad's  taste.  Now  Tom  Moxon  belonged  to  a 
Mechanics'  Institution,  and  had  books  from  the  library. 
And  there  was  more  than  one  girl  in  the  parish  who 
set  it  down  as  a  new  instance  of  man's  bad  taste,  when 
Mrs.  Moxon  spread  it  about,  that  "  her  Tom  was  as 
good  as  settled  with  Elizabeth  Popps,  at  Mr.  Capel's." 


THE    NAIL    ON    THE    FLOOR.  87 


Mrs.  Edwardes  was  not  long  after  Tom.  His 
face  lengthened  a  little  when  she  appeared,  but  Tom 
had  an  unsophisticated  notion  that  Popps  would  think 
the  better  of  him  for  civility  to  a  poor  elderly  woman. 
So  he  set  a  chair  for  her  close  to  the  fire,  and  politely 
waited  to  take  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  when  she  un- 
fastened them. 

"  We'll  have  tea  directly,"  said  Popps,  bustling ; 
"  for  we  might  as  well  have  it  in  peace  before  they 
want  their'n.  Will  you  bring  up  your  chair,  Mrs. 
Edwardes,  or  will  you  like  to  sit  where  you  are, 
mum  ?  " 

"Oh,  I'll  bring  in  my  chair!"  answered  the 
visitor,  and  rose,  and  Tom  gallantly  brought  it  in  for 
her. 

"Well,  they're  nice  lookin'  visitors,  so  they  are," 
thought  Popps,  slyly  glancing  at  them,  while  she 
measured  out  the  tea.  "  Tom  looks  like  a  working- 
man,  and  a  gentleman  at  once.  A  precious  deal 
more  like  that  last,  than  them  little  whipper-snappers 
that  pass  here  of  a  Sunday  afternoon  in  their  tail- 
coats and  beaver  tiles,  and  their  bits  of  brass  chains 
and  cigars.  And  as  for  Mrs.  Edwardes,  there's 
something  very  genteel  about  her.  It's  a  good 
gown  she's  got  on,  though  I'll  warrant  it's  worn  out 
it's  price  and  that  collar  of  her's  u'd  be  very  pretty, 
if  it  were  a  bit  fresher,  like.  If  I'd  such  a  bit  of  good 
lace,  I'd  not  grudge  washin'  of  it.  Well,  I  hope  I 
shan't  show  off  any  bad  habits.  I've  always  tried 
to  notice  how  the  young  ladies  does  at  table  ;  but  sit- 


88  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

ting  by  one's  self,  one's  werry  apt  to  get  like  a  greedy 

Pi. 

'•  I  saw  some  of  the  family  after  I  parted  from  you 

this  morning,  Bessie,"  said  Tom.  "They  were  just 
coming  along  Holborn  as  I  turned  out  ol  Brownlow 
street ;  the  youngest  Miss  Capel,  and  little  Miss,  the 
cousin  and  the  flashy  one,  along  with  the  gentleman 
that's  just  come  into  the  business.  If  he  is  sweet  on 
her,  he  needn't  be,  I'm  thinking,  Bessie." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Popps,  while  Mrs.  Edwardes 
observed  : 

"Flashy  is  not  a  nice  word  to  describe  a  young 
lady." 

"Well,  I  mean  she's  a  dashing  girl,  and  what 
ninety-nine  men  out  of  a  hundred  would  call  a  regular 
beauty." 

"  And  don't  you  ?  "  asked  Popps,  happily  confi- 
dent of  a  negative  answer. 

"  No  I  don't.  I  can  see  nothing  in  a  face  except 
what  it  stands  for.  Give  me  a  good  woman,  an'  I 
know  she'll  grow  better  looking  every  year.  But  I 
wouldn't  trust  that  second  Miss  Capel — no,  I  wouldn't 
take  her  oath,  where  I'd  take  half  a  word  from  some 
women."  This  with  a  look  which  pointed  the  com- 
pliment. 

"  Don't  talk  about  swearing,  if  you  please,  Tom," 
said  Popps,  primly. 

"  I  don't  think  you  have  any  right  to  pronounce 
such  judgments,"   remarked    Mrs.    Edwardes,   quite 


THE    NAIL    ON    THE    FLOOR.  89 

earnestly.     "  What  reason  have  you  to  say  such  things 
of  Miss  Sibyl  ?  " 

"  We've  all  a  right  to  our  own  opinions,  I  think 
ma'am,"  Tom  answered  civilly;  "but  nobody  need  take 
'em  for  more  than  they  are  worth.  He  must  be  an 
uncommonly  poor  friend  that  would  be  set  against 
anybody  by  what  another  said." 

"  But  people  oughtn't  to  speak  evil  without  reasons 
for  it,"  said  Popps  ;  "  and  then  they  should  tell  the 
reasons,  and  then  it  ain't  evil,  it's  truth." 

"  Very  well,  Bess,"  returned  the  young  man  ;  "  you 
know  I've  always  said  the  same  of  your  second  young 
lady,  having  no  reason,  but  my  own  judgment.  But 
yesterday  I  was  on  a  job,  mending  the  seats  in  St. 
James'  Park.  You  know  what  a  day  it  was ;  fog,  not 
thick,  but  as  yellow  as  a  guinea,  and  the  ground  under 
your  foot  like  a  sponge  not  wrung  out." 

"  I  hope  you  had  on  that  nice  comforter  I  gave 
you,  and  didn't  play  any  fool's  tricks  of  sitting  on  the 
grass,"  put  in  Popps. 

Tom  went  on  without  heeding  this  parenthetical 
solicitude.  "  There  was  nobody  in  the  Park,  to  speak 
of,  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  saw  a  young  lady  coming 
down  the  walk.  What  made  me  notice  her  was  her 
walking  so  slow  for  such  a  day.  She'd  passed  me  be- 
fore I  saw  her,  and  when  she'd  got  to  the  end,  she 
turned  back,  and  then  who  should  she  be  but  this  here 
dashing  Miss  Capel." 

"  Presently  a  gentleman  came  petting  across  the 
grass.     A  great,  tall,  swell  fellow,  and  he  went  up  be- 


QO  GOI.H    AND    l'UOSS. 


hind  her,  and  overtook  her  just  behind  me.  And 
'  How  (In  ye  do?'  .says  he.  And  she  gave  a  little  cry, 
quite  as  if  she  was  startled,  like,  and,  says  she  ;  '  Isn't 
it  dreadful  on  this  damp  path,  but  I've  been  to  Pam- 
lico and  came  across  as  my  nearest  way  home,'  and 
then  went  pattering  along  as  if  she  grudged  putting 
her  feet  upon  the  gravel.     And  he  went  with  her." 

"  Did  she  see  you,  Tom  ? "  asked  Popps. 

"See  me!"  echoed  Tom,  indignantly;  "Why 
she's  the  sort  that  would  as  soon  notice  a  tree  from 
another  like  it,  as  a  working  man  !  " 

"  Ah,  so  she  is,"  Popps  assented.  "  It's  wonder- 
ful how  soon  you  make  people  out,  Tom.  You  know 
her  better  than  me  as  lives  in  the  same  house.  Mrs. 
Edwardes,  you  don't  seem  enjoying  of  your  tea  ;  will 
you  try  a  bunn  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  can't  take  any  more,"  said 
Mrs.  Edwardes,  and  pushed  her  chair  a  little  back 
from  the  table.  "  Still  I  don't  think  you  need  make 
so  much  out  of  the  little  incident  in  the  Park,  Mr. 
Moxon.  Of  course  the  gentleman  was  a  friend.  Per- 
haps more." 

"  An'  as  for  her  making  believe  she  wasn't  waiting 
for  him  ;  why,  it  was  only  natural,  considering,"  rea- 
soned Popps.  "  Not  as  I  like  Miss  Sibyl  a  bit,  but 
I  likes  to  make  all  the  excuses  I  can  for  folks  ;  'cause 
then  I  can  judge  'em  pretty  smart  when  I  can't  make 
any  more  !  " 

•■  Yes  ;  I  know  all  that,  and  I'd  be  the  last  to 
think  evil  o'  some  people,"  said  Tom.     "  If  I  was  to 


THE    NAIL    ON    THE    FLOOR.  9 1 


see  the  youngest  Miss  Capel  doing  the  queerest  look- 
ing action,  I'd  believe  she  had  good  reasons  for  it. 
She  has  an  honest  face." 

"You  like  her,  do  you  ?  "  asked  Popps.  "  Well,  I 
daresay  she's  good  enough,  but  Miss  Lizzie  for  my 
money,  all  the  days  in  the  year  !" 

"  Miss  Lizzie  would  never  do  even  a  queer-look- 
ing thing,"  returned  Tom.  "  Miss  Lizzie's  a  real 
good  lady,  but  there's  some  bits  of  duty  in  life  that 
she'd  never  see  to  be  her  duty.  It  would  be  easier 
for  her  to  go  on  bearing  burdens  herself,  when  it 
would  be  the  right  thing  to  throw  them  off.  The 
young  one  is  made  for  hard  work.  There's  the  same 
look  on  her  face  that  I've  seen  on  the  old  men  who 
come  to  our  meetings  who  were  among  the  first  to 
agitate  for  Reform  and  Repeal.  She's  got  the  eyes  that 
see  the  root  as  well  as  the  plant.  As  for  this  Miss 
Sibyl,  I  don't  want  to  think  evil  of  her  either.  She's 
just  trying  to  serve  herself  in  her  own  way,  and  if  you 
put  it  to  her  fair,  I  don't  believe  she'd  deny  it.  She 
thinks  everybody's  doing  the  same,  and  she's  pretty 
near  right  for  that  matter.  Only  what  makes  me  bit- 
ter against  her  is,  that  if  she  was  a  servant  gal,  she'd 
be  called  a  regular  bad  one,  and  turned  off  without  a 
character  ;  but  because  she's  a  young  lady  she's  only 
attractive  and  beautiful  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  You'll 
find  that  sort  of  inconsistency  as  strong  in  religious 
people  as  anybody  else,  and  its  these  ways  that  makes 
infidels  of  ever  so  many  fine  honest  fellows.  There's 
some  such  that  work  at  our  place  and  they  say  to  me, 


02  D    AMi     HI 

'Moxon,  can  you  deny  that  nearly  all  your  rich  par- 
sons are  friendly  enough  with  rich  people,  that  th< 
be  always  nagging  at  if  they  were  poor.  They're 
always  pitching  into  the  vices  that  we're  likely  to  get 
into,'  says  they,  '  but  how  often  do  they  say  anything 
about  hypocrisy  and  insolence,  and  screwing  clown  the 
workman  to  the  lowest  farthing,  so  that  he  can't  help 
himself  in  any  pinch,  and  then  glorifying  themselves 
by  giving  him  the  rest  of  his  just  earnings  as  a  heav- 
enly charity!'  'If  this  is  religion/  says  one  x>f  'em 
— and  he's  a  chap  with  a  weak  hand,  and  keeps  a 
a  half-idiot  brother  off  less  than  full  wages — '•'  if  this 
is  religion,  Tom,  I'm  sure  there's  something  better 
somewhere.'  " 

"But  then  it  ain't,"  said  Popps. 

"  But  how  are  they  to  know  that  ?  It's  what  they 
so  often  find  when  they  go  to  look  for  it." 

"Haven't  they  Bibles,  and  can't  they  read?" 
asked  Popps,  promptly. 

Tom  shook  his  head.  "  That  they  can,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "  but  they've  had  it  drilled  into  them  that 
it's  all  on  the  rich  folks'  side,  and  when  you've  once 
had  a  wrong  meaning  set  to  words,  it's  hard  to  read 
them  over  to  any  other  tune.  I  think  there's  some 
that  turns  round  fiercest  of  all,  and  says  they  don't 
believe  in  a  God,  while  all  the  time  it's  the  libels  on 
him  that  they  can't  abide  ;  and  there's  others  that  go 
to  hear  such  speechify,  although  they  don't  half  like 
their  bitter  railing  at  what  they  don't  know  anything 
about,  except  by  the  ugly  mask  that  men  have  put 


THE    NAIL    ON    THE    FLOOR.  93 

over  it, — yet  they  do  want  to  hear  bits  of  justice  and 
truth  or  what  seem  like  'em." 

"Well,  I'm  satisfied  with  what  I  find  in  the  Bible," 
said  Popps. 

"  So  they  be,  but  they  can't  see  it  all  yet,"  Tom 
returned. 

"  Perhaps  they've  some  sins  between  it  and  them," 
said  Popps.  "Perhaps  the  Bible  says,  'Give  up 
something,'  that  they  don't  want  to  give  up." 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  Tom  assented ;  "  but  then  accord- 
ing as  they've  had  it  preached  to  them  the  k  Give  up' 
is  all  on  their  side,  and  not  a  bit  on  t'other,  and  they 
say  at  once,  '  that  is  not  fair." 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  me  that  they  must  be  werry 
blind  if  they  can't  see  that  the  Bible's  always  a-taking 
their  part  against  tyrants  and  oppressors,"  Popps  re- 
turned. "Why  just  look  at  Moses  and  the  children 
of  Israel!" 

"  They're  told  they  must  look  at  that  in  a  spiritual 
sense,"  said  Tom  ;  "  meaning  the  deliverance  from 
sin." 

"  Well,  it  do  stand  for  that  too,  most  beautiful," 
answered  Popps.  "  But  still  God  did  tell  Moses  to 
bring  the  people  out  of  their  bondage.  So  he  must 
have  meant  it  was  right.  'Tisn't  likely  he'd  do  evil 
to  make  good  in  a  spiritual  sense.  You'll  not  get  a 
sound  kernel  out  of  a  rotten  shell !  " 

"What  do  you  think  of  all  these  matters,  Mrs. 
Edwardes  ? "  asked  Tom ;  thinking  that  she  had  sat  in 
silence  too  long. 


94  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

She  was  sitting  with  her  face  towards  the  window. 
The  gas  had  just  been  lit  in  the  street,  and  its  yellow 
glare  fell  on  her  white  countenance,  and  out  of  the 
lights  and  shadows  thus  cast  on  the  pinched  features, 
developed  a  curious  expression  of  pain  and  terror. 
She  half  started  to  find  herself  addressed,  and 
nervously  wrung  her  hands,  as  she  replied  : 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  !  It's  hard  to  believe,  but  it's 
worse  to  doubt.  Whether  the  Bible  is  true  or  not, 
they're  the'  happiest  that  keeps  to  it.  You  may  fancy 
you  have  got  enough  light  in  your  own  soul  to  guide 
your  steps,  but  when  you  drop  the  Bible,  you  find  it 
all  came  from  there,  little  as  you  thought  it,  and  it 
soon  dies  out  by  itself/' 

"■  She's  been  a  well-brought  up  woman,"  concluded 
shrewd  Tom ;  and  looked  at  her  with  increased 
interest ;  but  she  had  changed  her  position  and  her 
face  was  in  total  darkness  now. 

"We're  in  hopes  you'll  come  to  chapel  with  us  to- 
night, Mrs.  Edwardes,"  said  Popps.  "  I  think  you'd 
be  sure  to  like  our  minister.  He's  such  a  nice  old 
gentleman." 

There  was  just  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  cannot  go  to-night,"  said  Mrs. 
Edwardes.     "  I  want  to  get  home  as  early  as  I  can." 

"  But  service  is  over  a  little  after  eight,"  pleaded 
Popps.  "  We  go  in  at  half-past  six.  Do  come.  It 
will  be  so  companionable  like,  won't  it,  Tom  ? "  ap- 
pealing for  his  concurrence  in  the  invitation,  in  case 
Mrs.  Edwardes  was  refusing  in  good-natured  observ- 


THE    NAIL    ON    THE    FLOOR.  95 

ance  of  the  adage,  that  "  two  are  company  and  three 
are  none." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Edwardes  will  come  !  "  said  Tom.  It's 
not  a  close  place,  although  it's  crowded.  My  mother, 
who  has  asthma  ever  so  bad,  goes  regularly  and  never 
takes  any  harm." 

"  It's  very  good  of  you  to  ask  me,"  replied  the 
charwoman,  suddenly  rising  ;  "  but  I  can't  come — it's 
no  use,  I  can't  come." 

There  was  something  in  her  manner  which  checked 
all  further  petition. 

"  Well,  I  must  go  and  see  after  our  teas,"  said 
Popps.  "  You'll  keep  Tom  company  till  I  come  back, 
at  any  rate,  Mrs.  Edwardes." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  can  do  that,"  replied  the  other,  sit- 
ting down  again,  and  relapsing  into  her  usual  indiffer- 
ent manner. 

Popps  stirred  the  fire  into  a  cheerful  blaze,  and 
thriftily  observing,  that  they  could  talk  by  that  as  well 
as  by  candle-light,  left  them  to  themselves.  Tom 
stole  many  a  glance  at  his  companion.  She  sat  be- 
fore the  fire,  motionless,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her 
lap.  Tom  looked  at  her  face,  and  he  had  an  idea 
that  he  did  not  quite  like  it — that  he  should  have  liked 
it  less,  if  he  had  seen  it  before  it  was  faded  and  lined  ; 
but  it  was  such  a  worn,  defeated  face  now  that  it 
seemed  cruel  to  criticise  it. 

Tom  did  not  speak.  He  could  be  fluent  enough 
with  his  energetic  kindly  Bessie.  But  as  is  often  the 
case   with  quick  close  observers,  his  keen  knowledge 


g6  GOLD    AND    D] 


(wlierever  sympathy  was  lacking),  checked  all  show 
of  outward  sociability.  Nor  did  Mrs.  Ed wardes  speak. 
So  that  they  had  not  exchanged  a  word  when  Popps 
returned,  and  then  it  was  time  for  her  and  Tom  to 
start  for  chapel.  Mrs.  Edwardes  put  on  her  bonnet, 
and  went  off  first.  As  she  passed  the  office-window 
she  looked  in  and  saw  the  gas  was  turned  on,  and  two 
people  were  standing  at  the  desk,  bending  over  a 
great  book.  She  actually  stood  still  and  peered  in  to 
see  who  they  were,  and  what  they  were  doing.  It  was 
Philip  Lewis  and  Sibyl,  and  the  book  was  a  Bible, 
and  they  seemed  searching  references. 

"  False  !  false  !  "  she  groaned.  "  The  treachery 
is  in  the  blood  !  '  The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes, 
and  the  childrens'  teeth  are  set  on  edge.'  "  And  she 
suddenly  turned,  and  fled  down  the  street  with  a  wild 
speed,  at  strange  variance  with  her  usual  heavy  step. 

"  She's  a  queer  body,  isn't  she — that  Mrs.  Ed- 
wardes?" said  Popps,  cheerfully,  linking  her  arm  in 
Tom's. 

"  That  she  is,"  he  assented,  "  there's  more  in  her 
than  meets  the  eye.  And  I  don't  know  if  we  should 
like  her  better  if  we  could  see  it  all.  She's  turned 
some  sharp  corners  in  her  time,  I  reckon." 

Mrs.  Edwardes  went  home.  She  lived  in  the  back 
attic  of  a  large  old  house  in  a  blind  alley  near  Hatton 
Garden.  It  was  the  only  dwelling-house  among  half 
a  dozen  warehouses.  A  very  dismal  house — where  the 
door  always  swung  ajar — because  there  was  nothing 
within   to   tempt  the   meanest  thief  of    that  squalid 


THE    NAIL    ON    THE    FLOOR.  97 

neighborhood.  A  very  quiet  house  ;  many  of  the 
rooms  having  fallen  to  such  depths  of  decay,  that  they 
were  left  to  the  tenancy  of  rats  and  spiders — and  to 
such  gloomy  abodes,  young  married  couples,  with 
cheerful  swarms  of  children,  do  not  come.  The  bach- 
elor-landlord, a  miser,  lived  in  the  parlors,  with  two 
black  cats  and  a  pet  ferret.  The  habitable  part  of 
the  first  floor  was  used  by  two  widows  who  adhered 
to  the  place  for  the  sake  of  some  parochial  dole. 
And  the  front  attic  belonged  to  a  man  employed  in  the 
dissecting-room  of  a  metropolitan  college.  He  took 
tea  with  the  widows  occasionally,  but  with  none  of 
this  lively  household  was  Mrs.  Edwardes  on  similar 
terms  of  intimacy.  She  came  in  and  went  out,  and 
paid  her  rent.  She  might  have  died  in  her  top  cham- 
ber, and  unless  her  employers  had  inquired  for  her, 
nobody  would  have  missed  her  for  days.  Not  one  of 
the  other  inmates  had  entered  her  room  since  she 
rented  it.  Nobody  but  hsrself  knew  how  black  were 
the  carpetless  boards  ;  how  thin  and  poor  the  bed 
upon  the  floor  !  Nobody  saw  how  her  farthing  rush- 
light guttered  over  the  filthy  candlestick,  and  be- 
fouled a  cracked  table  that  was  foul  enough  already. 
And  she  never  noticed.  It  was  wonderful  how  she 
could  come  forth  neat  and  tidy  fiom  such  a  wretched 
hole.  She  must  be  so,  if  she  was  to  be  employed  at 
all,  but  accepted  no  such  necessity  for  any  such  care 
over  her  room.  There  are  women  who  will  make 
comfort  and  beauty  in  a  pauper  ward,  or  a  convict's 
cell.  There  are  women  whose  hopes  and  energies  are 
5 


98  G<  'II'    AND    DROSS. 


so  vital  that  they  will  spring  in  life's  saddest  places, 
and  make  them  fair  and  endurable  ;  being  in  them- 
selves the  best  pledge  of  a  better  life,  where  the  wrong 
will  grow  right,  and  the  crooked  straight.  How  could 
immortality  mean  anything  to  this  poor  woman,  while 
her  own  soul  seemed  dead  within  her  ? 

She  sat  clown.  The  only  seat  was  a  chair  without 
a  back,  which  she  never  missed  ;  her  usual  attitude 
being  to  lean  on  the  table  and  rest  her  head  in  her 
hands. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  made  a  visit  for  a 
long  while,  for  years  and  years.  And  what  good  had 
it  done  her?  There  were  horrors  in  her  heart  that 
long  seemed  dead,  yet  they  could  have  been  but 
benumbed,  for  she  felt  them  stirring  now.  She 
thought  she  had  forgotten  so  much.  That  she  had 
drank  such  a  deadly  draught  of  monotonous  solitude, 
that  her  soul  might  go  to  her  grave  in  its  dull  opiate 
calm.     But  no  ! 

She  had  worked  one  wild  fierce  wickedness  in  her 
life.  That  was  long  ago  now,  and  when  she  herself 
and  all  around,  had  been  so  different  that  of  late  the 
memory  of  the  sin  came  to  her  but  vaguely ;  almost  as 
the  believers  in  transmigration  may  fancy  a  sheep 
might  dream  of  the  carcase  it  tore  when  it  was  a 
blood-thirsty  tiger.  She  had  sowed  the  wind  and 
reaped  the  whirlwind,  and  she  and  her  sin  had  seemed 
alike  dead  and  lost.  Once  or  twice,  even  in  that 
wretched  room,  she  had  stood  at  the  window  looking 
at  the  stars,  and  thinking  that  she  only  had  suffered 


THL    NAIL    ON    THE    FLOOR.  99 

for  her  own  crime,  and  that  there  was  something  in 
her  that  did  not  shrink  even  from  the  unknown 
torments  of  the  revolving  wheel  of  eternity.  She 
had  tested  herself  with  a  long  pondered  test,  and  she 
had  not  seemed  to  break  in  that  trial.  Fool  !  fool  ! 
She  could  see  it  all  now  !  What  was  it  in  her  that 
had  craved  the  ordeal  ?  Can  the  corpse  ask  the 
galvanic  battery  to  prove  how  useless  it  is  ?  It  was 
the  lingering  life  in  her  that  had  sought  the  electric 
touch,  and  lo,  before  she  was  aware,  she  was  once 
more  a  moving  woman  in  an  acting  world ! 

And  her  sin  lived  too  !  It  looked  up  and  smiled, 
not  a  bit  changed,  and  only  loathsome  and  horrid  now, 
because  she  knew  what  it  all  meant.  Mrs.  Edwardes 
sprang  from  her  chair  and  paced  the  room  with  such 
fierce  steps,  that  the  rats  raced  down  the  crumbling 
walls,  and  startled  the  windows  from  their  evening 
nap. 

She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  There 
was  a  thick  fog  in  the  air,  and  as  she  leaned  from  the 
window,  she  could  not  see  the  dead  wall  that  she 
could  almost  reach  with  her  hand,  nor  yet  the  pave- 
ment of  the  yard  below.  She  knew  that  pavement 
well  enough,  and  the  coping  over  the  basement- 
window.  There  was  a  story  that  when  the  house  had 
been  a  well-to  do  family  mansion  a  little  child  had 
tumbled  from  this  very  window,  dashed  against  that 
coping,  and  laid  a  stark  corpse  on  the  flags  below.  It 
would  be  but  the  deed  of  a  moment,  and  the  fog 
seemed  mercifully  to  veil  the  horror  of  it.     If  there 


IOO  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


was  a  God,  surely  she  had  lost  him  already  !  She 
leaned  out  breathless.  And  a  church  clock  chimed 
through  the  mist.  Surely  something  from  within  the 
room  touched  her.  She  turned  with  glaring  eyes. 
Nobody  was  there,  but  her  gown  was  certainly  pulled. 
Yes — only  by  a  nail  sticking  out  of  the  floor  !  She 
stooped  to  release  it.     The  spell  was  broken. 

"  Misery  here  or  misery  there,"  she  murmured,  as 
she  went  back  to  the  table  ;  "  so  I'll  wait  and  see  it 
through." 

And  at  that  very  moment  in  a  church  scarcely  a 
stone's  throw  off,  Lizzie  and  Hester  Capel,  looking 
over  one  hymn-book,  were  singing 

"  Depth  of  mercy,  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me?" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WHAT  NEXT  ? 

IFE  went  on  quietly  enough  in  the  old  brown 
house  in  the  Queen's  Road.  Every  week 
brought  a  letter  with  the  Ribbock  postmark, 
and  every  week  took  away  one  with  the 
Ribbock  address.  Philip  Lewis  told  the  folks  at  home 
all  the  news,  how  well  he  got  on  in  the  office,  what 
slight  business  acquaintances  he  made,  what  friends 
visited  the  family,  what  lectures  he  went  to  hear,  how 
he  had  settled  himself  under  the  minister  at  Bracket 
Court,  thinking  he  might  as  well  accept  the  instruc- 
tions of  his  old  preacher's  friend  for  one  service  on 
Sunday,  since  some  of  the  household  generally  gave 
him  an  invitation  for  the  other— in  short,  he  told 
them  everything  except  what  gave  significance  and 
soul  to  all — that  he  was  in  love  with  Sibyl  Capel. 

Did  he  know  it  ?  Perhaps  not  as  soon  as  did 
Sibyl  and  Hester.  Sibyl  knew  it  from  the  beginning. 
In  short  it  was  only  what  she  had  expected.  Hester 
knew  that  it  was  among  the  possibilities  which  her 
sister  had  mooted  to  herself,  before  the  stranger 
arrived.     Sibyl  had  observed  how  nice  it  would  be  to 


102  GOLD    AND   DROSS. 

have  a  beau  so  circumstanced  that  he  could  be  useful 
and  agreeable  for  a  long  time,  without  any  necessity 
to  make  a  fool  of  himself  and  spoil  everything.  Mar- 
riage with  a  man  in  Philip's  position  might  be  a  ne- 
cessary evil  at  last,  but  let  it  be  kept  off  as  long  as 
ible.  So  Hester  knew  that  her  sister's  snares 
were  set,  and  she  had  to  stand  by  and  watch  the  game 
step  into  them. 

Anything  will  do  for  a  man  to  fall  in  love  with! 
It  is  the  painful  perennial  truch  of  that  story  of 
Pygmalion  and  his  statue,  which  makes  nearly  every 
modern  poet  give  us  some  version  of  it. 

Just  a  point  where  two  natures  touch,  and  then, 
the  barer  the  one  is,  only  the  more  room  it  seems  for 
the  other's  fancy  to  do  its  sweet  and  wonderful 
work. 

There  was  Sibyl's  music  !  Now  there  was  a  dumb 
genius  shut  in  Philip,  and  he  felt  that  the  noblest  part 
of  him  cried  out  in  the  poor  straggling  discordant 
notes  that  ventured  out  under  his  fingers,  during  the 
secret  practicings,  when  he  had  pushed  the  mat 
against  the  chink  of  his  bedroom  door,  and  stuffed  his 
pocket-handkerchief  into  the  keyhole.  And  what  a 
burst  of  melody  came  from  Sibyl's  magic  touch  !  So 
his  poor  logic  concluded  what  a  soul  she  must  have  ! 
What  grand  ideas,  what  tender  emotions  must  be 
there  ! 

Don't  laugh  at  him,  you  wise  people,  who  know  a 
great  deal  of  society,  artistic,  literary  and  musical. 
You  have  been  behind  the  scenes,  and  seen  the  strings 


WHAT    NEXT?  I03 


that  move  the  puppets.  And  very  likely  you  wish 
you  had  never  gone  there,  and  would  give  much  to 
have  back  the  old  delusion  !  And  yet  no  !  It  must 
be  a  poor  soul,  which  having  once  seen  the  truth, 
would  fain  shrink  back  from  it  into  the  false. 

He  was  but  a  commonplace  young  man  who  tried  to 
keep  the  fifth  commandment,  and  wished  to  get  on  in 
the  world,  and  had  very  strict  notions  of  his  own  nar- 
row groove.  Particularly  about  womanly  proprieties 
and  how  young  women  ought  not  to  be  out  alone  after 
certain  hours,  or  to  go  near  sundry  localities ;  what 
books  they  should  not  read,  how  neat  they  should  be, 
and  how  regardful  of  all  the  beauties  of  existence. 
He  was  prone  to  lay  down  little  rules  which  would 
fetter  all  true  womanliness,  to  put  the  letter  above 
the  spirit,  to  forget  the  dissimulations  and  evasions 
and  traditional  renderings,  which  always  come  in  to 
keep  such  legal  regulations,  and  in  the  very  keeping 
to  defeat  them. 

He  did  not  like  clever  women  ;  he  did  not  like 
masculine  women  ;  and  he  gave  that  name  to  any  who 
did  man's  duty  when  God  set  it  for  them.  -He  liked 
to  see  woman  in  her  true  place — at  the  domestic 
hearth,  living  for  her  husband,  training  her  children. 
He  liked  woman  as  the  teacher  of  the  young,  the  con- 
soler of  the  sorrowful,  the  ministrant  to  the  sick  and 
dying. 

Such  whole  truths  in  themselves — such  half  truths 
as  he  uttered  them  !  Especially  as  he  sat  and  looked 
at  Sibyl  while  he  spoke. 


104  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


His  was  a  good  honest  soul  in  its  own  small  way. 
But  it  was  not  tall  enough  to  look  over  the  fences  of 
its  own  narrow  experience,  and  see  the  broad  mead- 
ows beyond.  His  mother's  virtues  had  been  those 
that  grow  indoors,  in  those  household  economies  and 
industries  which  patiently  make  the  most  of  a  little 
that  was  yet  sufficient.  Let  women  be  like  her,  he 
dogmatized,  and  never  asked  himself  why  the  same 
flowers  do  not  flourish  in  all  climates ! 

And  how  gracefully  Sibyl  did  those  little  bits  of 
household  duty  which  rise  to  the  surface !  How 
adroitly  she  carved  the  fowl,  which  poor  Lizzie,  tired 
and  nervous  from  a  morning's  fine  ironing  of  ruffs 
and  cuffs  (two-thirds  of  them  Sibyl's),  was  beginning 
to  haggle.  And  how  deftly  she  re-habited  an  old 
winter  dress,  paying  as  much  for  the  fresh  fashionable 
trimmings  as  did  her  sisters  for  the  whole  of  their 
new  serviceable  linseys.  Whenever  a  fit  of  depression 
made  her  glad  of  some  satisfactory  excuse  for  her 
melancholy,  how  tenderly  she  lamented  over  Dora's 
delicacy  and  sufferings !  And  nobody  but  Hester 
noticed  that  when  her.  spirits  were  high,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  a  promised  party,  she  danced  a  jig  and  sang 
an  opera  air,  in  the  room  above  that  in  which  her 
cousin  was  then  lying  in  the  tortures  of  acute  nervous 
headache.  How  she  talked  of  every  little  duty  before 
she  did  it,  and  after  it  was  done,  just  because  her 
treasure  of  good  deeds  was  too  small  to  part  with  one 
coin  uncounted,  and  so  got  more  credit  for  doing  once 


WHAT    NEXT?  I05 


in  her  life  such  things  as  her  sisters  did  twenty  times 
a  day,  and  never  thought  about  again  ! 

The  very  shadow  of  the  substance  of  domestic  duty 
was  so  foreign  to  her  nature  that  it  bored  her  dread- 
fully. She  felt  herself  quite  a  martyr  under  it.  But 
the  fact  was,  everything  bored  Sibyl.  Admiration  was 
the  bread  of  her  life,  and  the  old  curse  was  upon  her, 
and  she  ate  it  in  the  sweat  of  her  face.  Some  bores 
were  lighter  than  others  and  that  was  all.  As  in  most 
callings,  so  in  hers,  the  slighter  work  often  brought  in 
the  larger  remuneration.  The  comparatively  pleasant 
toil  of  evening  dress,  and  an  imposing  performance  on 
the  piano,  and  a  little  flippant  talk,  would  bring  in 
the  return  of  twenty  compliments,  and  perhaps  a  hun- 
dred admiring  glances  ;  while  a  week's  enforced  atten- 
tion to  unnoticeable  neatnesses,  and  to  the  topmost 
amenities  of  the  family  circle  might  barely  win  one 
sweet  speech  from  Philip.  True,  it  might  be  sincere, 
which  would  be  a  high  make-weight  with  some  women. 
But  not  with  Sibyl.  What  did  it  matter  ?  it  was  only 
the  less  florid  for  that.  When  she  was  a  child,  she 
had  always  bought  colored  sweetmeats.  They  were 
prettier  to  look  at — never  mind  the  poisons.  But  still 
it  was  all  a  weariness  to  the  flesh,  and  after  her  gayest 
reunion,  if  Dora  or  Lizzie  venture  to  ask  how  she  had 
enjoyed  herself,  her  reply  never  went  beyond  a  peev- 
ish "  Pretty  well." 

And  yet  Philip  Lewis  sat  and  talked  of  the  holi- 
ness and  beauty  of  woman's  true  mission— and  looked 
at  Sibyl  Capel ! 

5* 


Io6  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


Hester's  problems  grew  very  hard  that  winter. 
She  had  set  a  high  value  on  Philip's  just  word  about 
her  handwriting.  If  she  could  only  have  known  it,  it 
was  better  to  her  than  all  the  compliments  were  to 
Sibyl.  It  was  such  a  trifle  !  But  it  always  seems  as 
if  the  best  bits  of  happiness  are  made  up  into  the 
smallest  parcels.  For  days  Hester  went  bravely  in 
the  strength  of  that  just  word.  But  gradually  she 
found  out  all  that  it  had  not  yet  meant.  All  Philip's 
liitlc  theories  could  not  shut  his  eyes  to  facts.  He 
saw  that  all  women  did  not  walk  in  what  he  deemed 
the  one  fitting  path.  He  did  not  deny  that  some  such 
outsiders  did  good  works  and  great  deeds.  And  he 
was  one  of  the  first  to  give  them  a  meed  of  pitying 
respect  or  respectful  pity,  much  in  the  spirit  with  which 
kind  people  pay  dearer  for  manufactures  imperfectly 
made  by  the  blind.  But  he  shut  his  gates  upon  them 
nevertheless.  If  they  did  not  walk  only  in  his  way, 
they  might  not  walk  there  at  all.*  They  were  not  true 
women  according  to  his  notion.  They  might  have 
only  done  the  task  that  was  fairly  put  into  their  hands, 
but  according  to  his  theory  the  genuine  womanly 
nature  would  sooner  have  left  the  task  undone.  A 
worn  in's  charm  was  tenderness,  not  strength,  said  he. 
And  he  could  not  perceive  that  they  are  the  halves 
of  the  perfect  whole,  and  that  tenderness  without 
strength  is  likely  to  keep  as  safe  and  sound  as  a 
kernel  taken  from  a  nut,  and  thrown  in  the  gutter  of 
Cheapside. 

Strange,  pitiful    too,  what  bitter    stress    Hester's 


WHAT    NEXT  .  107 


heart  put  on  Philip's  want  of  insight  !  What  did  it 
matter?  What  was  he,  that  his  judgment  should 
weigh  aught?  Ah,  but  we  are  human,  human,  and 
that  means  so  much  !  It  may  be  but  a  jeering  finger, 
pointed  in  the  street  at  a  man  who  is  straining  soul 
and  body  for  his  country's  sake,  but  the  greatness  of 
the  nature  will  not  save  its  pain  ;  only  the  pain  will  not 
scare  it  from  its  work.  For  the  bitter  word  and  the 
slighting  smile  mean  more  than  the  scoffers  know. 
They  come  to  the  brave  struggling  heart  as  the  latest 
note  of  that  fierce  yell  which  began  with  "  Crucify 
him  !  Crucify  him  !  " 

And  so  the  winter  wore  away.  The  only  breaks 
in  the  quiet  family  life  were  Sibyl's  attendance  at  two 
or  three  concerts  or  parties.  The  perusal  of  Dick- 
ens' Christmas  number  formed  Hester's  sole  Christ- 
mas felicity.  We  all  of  us  know  such  seasons.  They 
seem  like  great  blanks  in  our  lives  ;  like  long  lanes 
whose  end  we  may  n«er  reach.  Time  is  surely  run- 
ning to  waste,  think  the  young  children  who  always 
want  to  see  a  flower  the  day  after  the  seed  is  sown. 
But  the  older  folk  fold  their  hands,  and  are  content  to 
wait.  One  or  two  events  make  us  satisfied  with  mo- 
notony. 

Evening  after  evening  Sibyl  toyed  with  her  music, 
and  Dora  lay  on  the  sofa  ready  to  listen  whenever 
she  was  in  the  mood  to  play,  and  Philip  often  found 
his  way  to  the  drawing-room,  although  for  form's  sake, 
he  occasionally  started  for  a  walk,  but  generally  found 
'  the   weather  not  very  agreeable  and  came  home  in 


108  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

remarkably  good  time.  And,  evening  after  evening, 
Lizzie  and  Hester  sat  in  the  parlor  and  worked. 
They  got  through  their  dressmaking  and  household 
mending,  and  actually  treated  themselves  to  some 
embroidery  ;  long  strips,  which  would  absorb  the  leisure 
half  hours  of  many  months.  And  sometimes  Hester 
used  to  wonder  to  herself  what  would  come  to  pass 
before  those  embroidery  strips  were  finished,  or  at 
any  rate,  worn  out  ?  Once  she  hinted  as  much  to 
Lizzie. 

"  Why,  nothing  at  all,  I  hope  ! "  the  elder  sister 
answered,  quickly.  Change  was  a  stranger  to  her, 
and  Lizzie  was  shy  of  all  strangers !  "  You  shouldn't 
forebode  about  the  future,  Hetty." 

"  I'm  not  foreboding,"  defended  Hetty.  "  May  it 
not  be  something  pleasant  ?  Perhaps  Sibyl  will  be 
married  !  "  she  added,  half  mischievously. 

Popps  put  her  head  into  the  room.  "  There's  a 
gentleman  been  asking  for  Master,  Miss,"  she  said. 
"I  said  he  wasn't  at  home,  but  the  young  ladies  was, 
but  he  wouldn't  wait.  He'll  call  again,  he  says.  And 
he's  left  this.  You'll  see  something  on  the  back, 
Miss,  he  wrote  it  up  agin  the  door-post.  I  think  he'd 
ha'  liked  me  to  ha'  gone  into  the  office  and  got  him  a 
pen  and  ink,  but  I  let  him  rummage  out  a  pencil  of 
his  own,  for  there  was  all  the  coats  and  umberellers 
about ;  and  how's  one  to  know  who's  who,  when  there 
was  a  swell-looking  young  man  only  yesterday,  as 
couldn't  make  no  better  excuse  for  his  double  knock 
than  that  he'd  got  some  lucifers  to  sell,  and  it  u'd  help 


WHAT    NEXT?  I09 


him  a  trifle  if  I'd  buy  some.  I  told  him  them  was 
small  profits  for  a  gentleman  in  kid  gloves,  which  he'd 
better  pawn  and  buy  a  broom  and  take  a  crossing, 
meaning  no  harm,  but  only  recommendin'  him  to  take 
a  way  that  I  know  you  can  get  a  livin'  honest ;  when  he 
turned  ugly,  and  said  a  lot  of  impidence  as  made  me 
precious  glad  I'd  not  laid  on  a  penny  with  him,  as  I 
was  half  inclined  at  first." 

"  Then  do  you  think  this  last  caller  was  an  impos- 
tor?" asked  Hester,  stretching  out  her  hand  for  the 
card. 

"Oh!  how  do  I  know?"  returned  Popps,  cau- 
tiously; "gentlemen  has  different  manners,  but  I 
doubts  'em  when  they  call  ye  '  my  pretty  girl,'  a-stand- 
ing  in  the  dark  !  Not  but  what  it  u'd  be  worse  in  the 
light,  true  or  not  true.  Takin'  insults  is  no  part  of  a 
servant's  duty  as  ever  I  heard."     And  Popps  departed. 

Lizzie  took  the  missive,  and  over  her  shoulder 
Hester  read  aloud  : 

"  Mr.  Anthony  Fiske,  of  the  old  times  at  Ligney. 
See,  I  am  not  too  vain  to  feel  that  I  may  need  recal- 
ling. Don't  be  disgusted  if  I  call  in  again  late,  when 
un  pere  de  famille  will  surely  be  at  home.  I  would 
not  trouble  Mes demoiselles,  your  daughters." 

"The  old  times  at  Ligney  !  "  said  Lizzie.  "Then 
he  must  have  known  mamma.  That  was  where  she 
died." 

"  Fiske  ?  It's  an  English  name,  surely,"  commented 
Hester.     "At  any  rate,  he  writes  English  well  enough 
Why  need  he  stick  in  those  French  words  ?  " 


IIO  D     Wl' 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  Lizzie  answered.  "  Bui 
I  don't  think  there's  anything  very  nice  in  the  larder  ; 
only  the  cold  shoulder,  and  the  cheese  that  I  mi 
to  toast  if. Mr.  Drew  or  Mr.  Drake  came  in  with  papa. 
But  a  friend  one  hasn't  seen  for  twenty  years  is  differ 
ent.  I'll  send  Popps  for  a  pair  of  soles.  She  can  fry 
them  before  she  goes  to  bed,  and  they  can  be  kept 
warm  till  midnight." 

"  I  dare  say  Mr.  Fiske  won't  come  back  to-night," 
said  Hester,  laughing.  "  He'll  drop  in  upon  some 
other  dear  old  friend  instead." 

••  Then  papa  can  have  one  sole  for  his  own  supper, 
and  the  other  will  do  cold  for  my  dinner  to-morrow,;' 
answered  Lizzie. 


CHAPTER   X. 


A   GENTLEMAN    AT   LARGE. 


IZZTE  was  still  down  stairs,  on  household 
cares  intent,  when  Mr.  Capel  came  in.  It 
was  rather  early  for  him.  He  was  one  of 
those  men  who  habitually  pass  the  hat-rail 
unnoticed  and  saunter  into  the  parlor,  great  coat,  walk- 
ing-stick and  all,  seeming  to  need  half  an  hour's  rest 
after  any  pedestrian  exertions  before  they  can  put 
themselves  into  comfortable  condition  for  in-doors 
society.  But  he  caught  instant  sight  of  the  card  lying 
on  the  crimson  table-cover. 

"  Mr.  Antho — confound  it !     Here's  a  pretty  go!  " 

Hester  looked  up  in  astonishment,  but  she  was 
used  to  such  ejaculations  and  only  thought  her  father 
was  vexed  at  missing  his  old  acquaintance. 

"You'll  find  a  message  on  the  back,  father,"  she 
said ;  "  he  is  even  coming  again  to-night  to  take  the 
chance  of  finding  you  at  home." 

Mr.  Capel  put  off  his  hat,  and  set  it  on  the  table, 
whence  Lizzie,  coming  in,  removed  it  to  the  hall. 
And  he  walked  up  and  down   the  hearth-rug  while 


[12  GOLD  AND  E 

Liz/ic  looked  at  him  wistfully,  thinking  that  however 

silent  people  may  be,  things  and  circumstances  will 
"  The  old  times  at  Ligney" — what  chords 
must  that  simple  phrase  have  struck!  About  the 
sweet  early  married  life,  which  Lizzie,  bound  by  no 
single  disenchanting  fact,  had  imaged  wholly  out  of 
her  own  pure  ideal.  Even  about  his  own  old  self,  for 
of  course,  papa  had  been  very  different  then,  all  his 
little  peculiarities  and  weaknesses  had  surely  grown 
in  the  shock  of  the  sad  loss  figured  by  the  grave  he 
left  at  Ligney.  Lizzie  had  often  thought  that  it  would 
be  better  for  him  if  he  could  break  the  spell  and 
speak  about  this  sorrow  ;  but  perhaps  that  thought 
was  born  only  of  her  own  fond  longing  to  hear  some- 
thing of  the  dead  mother  in  the  far-off  resting-place 
that  none  of  her  children  had  ever  seen.  She  had 
fancied  about  that  grave  sometimes.  It  would  surely 
be  in  some  little  Protestant  burying-place,  perhaps 
de  a  Waldensian  chapel.  There  might  not  be 
another  stranger  lying  there.  Not  another  grave 
where  anybody  went  to  water  the  flowers,  or  to  hang 
a  wreath  of  immortelles.  Poor,  lonely  mother  !  well, 
if  she  was  able  to  afford  it,  when  she  was  an  old 
woman — (not  before,  for  it  could  never  be  in  her 
father's  days,  and  of  course  they  were  not  to  close 
till  Lizzie  was  quite  an  old  woman),  then  she  would 
make  a  journey  to  Ligney  and  see  the  tomb,  and  get 
the  Protestant  pastor  to  promise  that  he  would  see  it 
always  kept  neat  and  bright,  if  she  sent  a  trifle  for  the 
gardener. 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LARGE.  1 13 

And  Mr.  Capel  walked  up  and  down  the  hearth- 
rug, musing. 

What  a  pity  it  is  for  our  comfort  that  the  same 
circumstances  which  induce  us  to  kill  our  own  inner 
conscience,  generally  provide  us  with  two  or  three  ex- 
terior consciences,  which  in  this  very  little  world  of 
ours,  with  its  paltry  divisions  of  Europe,  Asia,  Africa 
and  America,  are  sure  to  find  us  out,  and  jostle 
against  our  beautiful  equanimity  !  What  railway  acci- 
dents and  shipwrecks  and  South  American  revolu- 
tions, and  New  York-editor-duels  have  been  going  on 
for  more  than  twenty  years,  and  this  Anthony  Fiske 
wandering  to  and  fro  on  the  face  of  the  earth  all  that 
time,  and  had  never  found  a  permanent  provision  in 
any  of  them  !  We  can  have  a  pretty  good  idea  why 
his  call  is  so  persistent.  Purses  will  grow  empty. 
And  his  stay  at  some  London  hotel  may  have  outlived 
the  temporary  security  that  mine  host  sees  in  a  car- 
pet-bag. What  will  he  look  like,  this  Anthony  Fiske  ? 
But  he  will  not  disgrace  us  in  that  wise  unless  he  is 
indeed  wofully  changed.  Ha !  he  had  a  card  ready 
to  leave,  and  we  may  engage  the  pencil  he  wrote  with 
was  gold,  or  at  least,  silver,  with  an  onyx  seal,  and  the 
Fiske  crest.  'Tony  always  knew  the  world,  and  that 
was  how  he  got  the  best  of  it.  'Tony  would  keep 
everything  pleasant — at  least  as  long  as  he  could. 
And  things  must  be  very  bad  if  'Tony  couldn't. 

There  was  a  light  long  airy  double  knock.  "  I 
dare  say  this  is  Mr.  Fiske,"  said  Hester. 


M4  \l>    DR( 

"Here's  the  gentleman  agin,"  said  Popps,  throw- 
ing open  the  parlor  door. 

The  gentleman  followed  close  at  her  heels.  He 
meant  to  come  in,  and  he  meant  to  be  very  welcome, 
and  he  meant  to  feel  so,  and  he  was  not  going  to  per- 
mit any  complication  or  delay  that  should  in  the  least 
damage  the  dear  self-delusion. 

"My  dear  old  Fred — once  more  I"  and  Mr.  Ca- 
pel's  hand  was  seized  and  shaken  with  an  energy  that 
rattled  the  superficial  good-fellowship  of  Mr.  Drew 
and  Mr.  Drake  down  among  the  very  dregs  of  friend- 
ship. This  was  intended  to  represent  the  light  and 
warmth  of"  Auld  lang  Syne." 

"  And  this  is  one  of  your  daughters?  the  eldest  ? 
— no,  the  youngest !  Dear,  dear,  dear  !  how  time 
slips  away  to  be  sure  !  " 

"  Sit  clown,  Fiske,  sit  down,"  said  Mr.  Capel  ; 
"  there  will  be  something  coming  on  for  supper,  pres- 
ently. And  do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  never  been 
in  London  before  this  ?" 

"Well,  yes,"  admitted  Mr.  Fiske;  "but  only  for 
very  short  times.  Why,  you  know,  Capel,  my  poor 
mother  was  buried  in  St.  Andrews'  churchyard— ah, 
years  before  I  knew  you  at  Ligney,  Capel — and  yet 
my  visits  to  London  have  been  such  that  1  have  never 
had  leisure  to  visit  her  grave  yet,  though  1  would 
naturally  have  gone  there  at  the  first  opportunity.  At 
the  first  opportunity,  quite  naturally,  Capel  !  "  And 
a  sigh  that  b'egan  theatrically,  ended  genuinely  enough, 
whether   paid  by    filial    affection  or  by  some  fresher 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LARGE.  115 


anxiety,  glad  of  a  more  sentimental  garment  to  cover 
its  coarser  pain. 

"  Where  do  you  put  up  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Capel. 

"  Why,  that's  just  what  it  is  ! "  cried  the  visitor, 
with  vivacity7.     "  You  see  I've  never  been  in  London 
alone.     At  least,  I  was  once,  but  then  my  destination 
was  provided  for  me,  without  any  responsibility  on  my 
part,  (he  did  not  add  that  it  was  in  Cursitor  street, 
and  there  were  bars  to  his  chamber  window,  though 
Anthony  Fiske  could  almost  have  persuaded  himself 
and    anybody  else  that  they  were   only  put  there  in 
paternal  solicitude  lest  the  interesting  lodgers  should 
precipitate  themselves  into  the  street,  in  an  over  anx- 
iety to   see    what  was  going  on  around  the  corner). 
"  That's  just  what  it  is,  Capel  !     Do  you  suppose  I 
would  disturb  you  in  the  bosom  of  your  family  at  this 
hour  for  nothing  ?     No,  no  !  I  want  you  to  recommend 
me  where  to  go.     Somewhere  comfortable,  and  mod- 
erate and  very  quiet.     Especially  very  quiet.     I  might 
have  put  up  anywhere  for  the  night,  though  they  do 
say  London  is  such  a  dreadful  place,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve it !  " — in  a  tone  rising  from  the  confidential  whis- 
per of  prudery  to  the  bright  assertion  of  innocence. 
"  But  Capel,  what  do  you  think  ?     Here's  an  incident 
that  would  do  for  a  novel.     I've  a  great  mind  to  insert 
an   advertisement  in   the  Times,  that  I  have  such  an 
article — warranted  fact — to  be  disposed  of,  for  a  small 
consideration.     I  came  up  from  Derby  this  afternoon. 
I  go  into  the  Railway-buffet  to  obtain  a  cup  of  coffee 
to  refresh  me  after  my  journey.     I  take  out  my  purse, 


I  1 6  I'    AM"    1.1 


I  do  not  for  the  moment  notice  that  it  is  a  small  be  id 
affair,  which  I  keep  for  stray  coin,  instead  of  the  sub- 
stantial Russia  I  ought  to  have  for  travelling.  I  <>\>vn 
it.  1  find  only  half  a  crown  and  a  half-penny!  I  feel 
for  the  Russia — in  this  pocket — in  that  pocket.  It  is 
in  neither.  Horrible  situation  !  I  find  myself  alone 
in  London  with  half  a  crown  and  a  half-penny — and 
where  is  the  Russia  I  should  have  brought,  and  con- 
taining the  money  I  ought  to  have  ?  Where  is  it  ?  I 
do  not  know." 

'■That  last  is  true  enough,  I  dare  say,"  said  Mr. 
Capel  to  himself,  and  added  aloud  ;  "  Where  have  you 
stowed  your  luggage,  Fiske  ?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  T  haven't  brought  any.  T  came 
up  to  meet  a  gentleman  who  ought  to  have  arrived 
from  Jersey  yesterday.  An  hour's  conversation 
would  have  done  my  business  with  him,  and  I  should 
have  been  back  in  Derby  by  this  !  But  I  find  a  tele- 
gram from  the  dilatory  fellow  that  he  will  not  be  in 
London  for  a  week.  So  I  shall  have  to  take  another 
journey  to  and  from  Derby  ;  whereas  if  I  had  only 
brought  the  purse  that  I  ought  to  have  brought,  I'd 
have  made  a  stay  here,  and  renewed  all  my  old  mem- 
ories— for  I'm  a  Londoner  born,  as  I  daresay  you've 
forgotten,  Capel.  But  as  it  is,  I  want  you  to  oblige 
me  with  the  name  of  a  hotel,  or  any  decent  lodging, 
where  they  will  trust  a  friend  of  yours  for  a  night  or 
two,  Capel." 

"  You  might  as  well  stay  here,"  said  Mr.  Capel, 
bluntly.     "  My    new    assistant    has    got    the    regular 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LARGE.  117 

spare-room,  but  1  think  there's  some  sort  of  garret  un- 
occupied, and  I  dare  say  the  girls  will  find  some  bits 
of  furniture,  that  you  can  make  shift  with.  My  two 
elder  daughters,  Fiske,"  as  Lizzie  and  Sibyl  entered. 

"  Capel,  how  kind  of  you  !  Good-evening,  madam. 
Good-evening,  madam.  For  your  parents'  sake,  I 
cannot  look  upon  you  young  people  as  strangers.  But 
Capel,  it  is  too  great  an  obligation  !  How  can  I  make 
myself  so  troublesome  to  the  young  ladies  ?  " 

"Tut, it  won't  trouble  them.  Fiske.  They're  glad 
of  something  to  do." 

"  Happy  to  do  kindness  and  to  show  hospitality, 
perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Fiske.  "Well,  I  think  I  should 
feel  so  myself — if  I  had  a  house  of  my  own — which 
I've  never  had  yet.  I've  been  a  poor  wandering  un- 
settled fellow  all  the  days  of  my  life,  Miss  Capel.  It 
was  all  very  well  when  I  was  young,  Miss  Capel ; 
though  I'd  always  a  sort  of  feeling  that  it  should  come 
to  an  end,  and  I  always  meant  to  settle  before  I  grew 
old.  But  now  I  must  just  venture  into  my  neighbor's 
fields,  like  Ruth,  and  glean  after  the  reapers  ;  and 
now  and  then,  some  good  soul  like  your  papa  here, 
makes  me  free  of  his  hearth  for  awhile,  and  then  I 
glean  even  among  the  sheaves." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  so  well  up  in  Scripture 
history,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  with  a  coarse  laugh. 

"  I  am  not,  I  am  not,  Capel ;  and  more's  the  pity. 
But  I  read  the  whole  book  of  IJuth  on  my  way  up  in 
the  railway  train.  What  do  you  think,  Miss  Capel,  I 
found  a  Bible  in  the  carriage — one  of  the  Society's  Bi- 


Il8  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


bles.  I  suppose  it  dropped  from  somebody's  port- 
manteau. I  was  the  first  passenger,  so  I  took  posses- 
sion and  read  all  Ruth  and  all  Esther  and  some  of 
Revelations." 

"  Did  you  have  any  fellow-travellers?"  asked  Mr. 
Capel ;  "  if  so,  they  must  have  thought  you  remark- 
ably pious." 

"  I'm  afraid  they  did,''  said  Mr.  Fiske,  with  a  sigh. 
"  It's  very  hard  to  be  thought  better  than  you  are.  It 
makes  you  wish  you  were,  you  know.  There  was  an 
old  lady  in  the  carriage,  with  some  ginger  biscuits, 
and  some  sherry  in  a  sarsaparilla  bottle.  She  offered 
me  some.  She  didn't  offer  any  to  a  young  man  next 
me,  and  a  very  nice-looking  young  man  he  was;  but 
then  he  was  reading  some  book  in  a  colored  paper 
cover  that  he'd  bought  at  the  railway-station." 

"And  did  you  accept?"  inquired  Mr.  Capel. 

"  Of  course,  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Anthony  Fiske,  with 
great  energy.  "  A  man  who  refuses  another  the  pleas- 
ure of  doing  a  kindness  is  one-third  fool  and  two-thirds 
brute.     Very  good  sherry  it  was,  too." 

"  It  took  some  faith  to  drink  out  of  the  sarsaparilla 
bottle,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  making  a  grimace. 

"Oh  dear,  no!  And  besides,  if  sarsaparilla  itself 
was  offered  me  in  the  way  of  kindness,  I  couldn't 
refuse  it." 

"  Ha,  ha!  "  laughed  Mr.  Capel.  "  Don't  you  re- 
member all  the  filthy  decoctions  you  swallowed  to 
please  that  old  bonne  who  undertook  to  cure  you  of 
your  ague  at  Ligney  ? " 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LARGE.  II9 

"  Well,"  said  Anthony  Fiske,  gravely ;  "  and  I  was 
cured,  and  I  know  it  was  not  the  filthy  decoctions 
that  did  it,  either.  It  was  just  patience,  and  excellent 
nursing,  and  good  living.  But  if  I  hadn't  swallowed 
her  pet  potions,  would  that  good  old  bonne  have  given 
me  a  fire  in  my  bedroom  without  an  extra  charge  ? 
Would  she  have  put  all  the  neighboring  dairies  and 
orchards  under  contribution  for  my  nourishment  ?  I 
had  her  doctoring  reputation  in  pledge,  and  she  was 
bound  to  do  her  best  to  redeem  it.  But  she  was  a 
good  old  soul.  If  I'd  a  fortune,  Capel,  she  was  the 
sort  of  woman  to  whom  I'd  give  a  little  annuity. 
Meantime,  I  hope  she  gets  on  very  well,  I  hope  she 
does.  And  I'd  advise  all  travellers  never  to  refuse 
her  doses.  But  to  return  to  the  events  of  to-day : 
There  was  a  young  married  lady  in  my  carriage  with 
three  fine  little  boys.  Very  fidgety  they  were.  I  let 
one  of  'em  sit  on  my  knee  to  look  out  of  the  window, 
and  the  others  cried  all  the  time  because  it  was  not 
their  turn.  Their  ma  wanted  to  buy  them  some  bunns 
at  Leicester.  She  did  not  dare  take  them  all  with  her 
to  the  buffets,  else  she  wouldn't  have  got  back  in  time. 
So  she  asked  me  so  nicely,  if  I'd  just  look  after  them 
while  she  went.  I  knew  she  thought  she  could  trust 
me  after  seeing  my  studies,  Capel.  A  pretty-looking 
woman  she  was,  and  quite  young."' 

"  What  a  joke  if  she'd  never  come  back  and  you'd 
arrived  in  London  with  a  flourishing  family,  Fiske  !  " 
laughed  Mr.  Capel.  "  I  should  have  been  rather 
afraid  of  taking  such  a  charge  myself." 


120  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't  ! "  said  the  other,  con- 
fidently ;  "You  always  did  talk  as  if  you  were  very 
suspicious,  but  I  don't  believe  it,  Capel.  Nobody  has 
ever  deceived  me.  To  be  sure,  it  wouldn't  matter 
much  if  they  had.  If  she  had  left  those  boys  with  me, 
I  might  have  been  very  sorry  for  them,  but  I  could 
not  have  done  anything  but  take  'em  to  the  work- 
house. But  people  have  not  known  that,  and  I've 
trusted  them  all  around,  and  no  harm  has  ever  come 
of  it.  I  like  to  trust  and  to  be  trusted — it's  a  very 
pleasant  feeling.  It  seems  to  me  it  is  quite  worth 
being  deceived  sometimes,  for  I'd  rather  be  a  fool  than 
a  knave,  if  there's  nothing  between  the  two.  What 
do  you  say,  Miss  Capel  ? " 

"  Oh  I  think  so,  decidedly  !  "  she  answered,  dain- 
tily portioning  out  the  fish-supper,  "  and  I  think  people 
generally  know  whom  to  trust.  You'll  hardly  ever 
see  a  child  ask  the  time,  or  the  use  of  a  high  knocker, 
of  a  person  who  will  not  attend  to  the  request.  This 
morning  when  you  were  out,  Hester,  a  little  boy  ask- 
ed you  to  read  an  illegible  address  on  a  letter,  didn't 
he,  dear  ?  Well,  I  had  watched  him  from  the  window 
and  he  had  stood  still  and  let  about  fifty  people  pass 
him  before  he  spoke  to  you." 

"  That's  always  happening,*'  said  Sibyl.  "  In  Red 
Lyon  street  the  other  day  a  little  ragamuffin  asked 
her  '  to  ring  the  top  bell  three  times  ; '  and  in  Meck- 
lenburg Square,  yesterday,  two  charity  children  had 
let  a  ball  through  the  railings,  and  they  came  up  curt- 
seying ;  •  Would  Miss  mind  giving  it  a  hook-out  with 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LARGE.  121 

her  umbrella1 — straight  opposite  the  Winter's  win- 
dows— I  was  never  more  ashamed  in  my  life.  No- 
body ever  troubles  me,  thank  goodness  ! " 

"You're  too  fine  a  lady,"  said  her  father.  "  The 
top  bell  would  soil  your  delicate  kids.  They  can  see 
that  you  are  the  cat  in  mittens  who  catches  no 
mice." 

"  I  believe  it's  an  unconscious  exercise  of  physi- 
ognomy," remarked  Mr.  Fiske.  "  Without  knowing 
it,  they  watch  for  a  face  with  a  certain  expression. 
Under  these  circumstances  they  seek  an  expression 
of  beneficent  will  and — and — general  gumption. 
People  may  ridicule  physiognomy  if  they  like,  but,  as 
Lavater  says,  '  All  men  estimate  all  things  whatever 
by  their  physiognomy ;  and  physiognomy,  whether 
understood  in  its  most  extensive  or  confined  sisrnifi- 
cation,  is  the  origin  of  all  human  decisions,  efforts,  ac- 
tions, expectations,  fears,  and  hopes.'  I  consider 
physiognomy  to  be  a  genuine  science,  and,  even 
taken  as  most  people  can  only  take  any  science,  as  a 
mere  hobby-horse,  it  will  carry  you  safely  as  far  as  you 
need  to  go,  and  if  }rou  will  override  it,  you  deserve  to 
be  taken  up  by  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cru- 
elty to  Animals !  How  I  know  so  much  about  it," 
continued  Mr.  Fiske,  descending  from  his  stilts,  and 
relaxing  into  easy  familiarity,  "  is,  that  I  once  lec- 
tured upon  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  in  physiognomy,"  said  Mr. 
Capel,  "  and  here's  a  case  in  point :     You  and  Hester 
are  asked  for  the  same  little  favors" — and  yet  I'm 
6 


122  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

sure  you  couldn't  find  two  people  more  different-look- 
ing." 

The  visitor  raised  his  faded  eyes,  and  fixed  them 
on  Hester,  and  then  shook  his  head  gently.  "  Very 
different  indeed,"  he  answered,  "as  different  as  may 
be.  And  I'll  tell  you  what,  Capel,"  he  added,  resum- 
ing his  vivacity,  "  our  kind  offices  are  asked  with  a 
different  feeling;  hers,  because  they  can  see  she  is 
ready  to  do  them  ;  mine,  because  they  think  I've  got 
nothing  better  to  do !  She'll  be  asked  to  give  more 
than  cheap  little  favors  some  day.  I  shan't — unless  by 
a  fool.  I'm  only  made  for  odd  jobs.  In  the  moral 
world  I'm  like  the  man  who  shuts  up  shops,  and 
sweeps  up  the  snow,  and  don't  even  mind  clearing 
your  doorstep  when  the  maid  is  ill.  It's  a  comfort  to 
me  to  hope,  that  such  may  make  life  a  little  pleasanter 
to  better  people — the  oil  that  makes  the  wheel  to  go 
round  without  cracking,  eh,  Miss.  Capel!  ' 

"How  ridiculous  of  the  man  to  keep  appealing  to 
Lizzie,  who  never  has  anything  to  say  for  herself! " 
thought  Sibyl. 

"  Now,  girls,  you  had  better  go  and  see  after  Mr. 
Fiske's  room,"  interposed  Mr.  Capel.  "  Sibyl,  you 
might  as  well  stay  with  us.  Lewis  is  not  here  to- 
night, and  so  you  needn't  go  off,  making  believe  you 
are  going  to  help,  for  I  know  you  won't." 

"  I'm  not  making  anybody  to  believe  anything, 
sir,"  said  Sibyl,  haughtily.  "  I  am  not  needed  to  help 
and  am  going  to  bed.  When  Mr.  Lewis  comes  in  you 
can  tell  him  all  about  it,  if  that  will  be  any  satisfaction 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LARGE.  1 23 

to  you.  Good-evening,  Mr.  Fiske,"  and  she  passed 
that  gentleman  at  the  door  of  the  room,  whither  he 
had  followed  Lizzie  and  Hester,  protesting  against  the 
trouble  he  was  giving  them. 

He  bowed  to  her — he  had  shaken  hands  with  the 
others — closed  the  door  behind  her,  returned  to  the 
fireside  and  seated  himself  opposite  to  Mr.  Capel. 
He  sighed  as  he  sat  down,  and  a  very  faded  and 
defeated  little  man  he  looked. 

"Well,  Fiske  !"  said  his  host,  shortly. 

Fiske  smiled  feebly  and  wriggled  in  his  chair. 
There  was  in  the  motion  a  half  ludicrous  resemblance 
to  the  cringing  movement  of  some  poor  dog,  obedient 
to  a  rough  master's  call  ;  "  Here  Brute  !  " 

"  And  so  you've  been  giving  lectures  on  physiog- 
nomy, have  you,  Fiske !  "  pursued  the  other.  "  Of 
course,  I  can  understand  that  sort  of  -thing  implies  a 
very  nourishing  state  of  the  funds,  eh,  Fiske  ?  " 

"That  was  on  the  Cliff  at  Margate  only,  last  sum- 
mer," answered  Fiske,  ruefully  heedless  of  the  ironical 
inquiry.  "  They  didn't  answer  well.  The  public  on 
the  Cliff  is  not  the  public  that  cares  for  science,  put  it 
as  popularly  as  you  may.  The  Ethiopian  serenaders 
had  it  all  their  own  way.  If  I'd  been  able  to  engage 
a  room,  it  might  have  been  different.  Nobody  listened 
to  me,  and  what  I  got,  I  believe  was  given  chiefly  in 
the  spirit  of  an  old  gentleman  who  put  a  shilling  in 
my  hand,  saying,  that  he  was  sorry  to  see  what  a  well- 
taught  man  might  come  down  to,  and  he  hoped  it  was 
not   through  drink  !     I  found  out  he  was  a  carcass- 


124  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

butcher  in  a  large  way  at  Smithfield.  And  he  called 
a  scientific  lecture  a  '  Come  down  !  '  For  science  is 
science  after  all,  Capel,  whether  it's  in  the  Royal 
Institution  or  on  the  cliffs  at  Margate  !  " 

"Now,  what  did  you  care  for  science?"  asked 
Mr.  Capel,  laughing.  "  All  you  wanted  was  money." 
"  No,  no,  not  all ;  "  don't  say  all,  observed  the  guest  ; 
"  If  I'd  only  thought  of  money,  most  was  to  be  got  by 
blacking  my  face  and  going  in  for  the  banjo.  One  must 
have  money  that  one  may  live — but  money  is  not  all. 
No,  Capel.  There  are  some  things  that  a  gentleman 
will  never  do,  as  long  as  he  can  help  it!  " 

"  I  hate  business  myself,"  said  Mr.  Capel.  "  I'd 
sooner  live  your  life  than  mine  now.  Only  you  were 
a  fool  to  lose  your  money.  I  own  I  am  more  fortu- 
nate there.  I  had  a  little  money  too,  as  you  may  re- 
member. I've  bought  an  annuity  of  a  hundred  odd 
per  annum.  I  did  that  years  ago,  and  so,  being  se- 
cure from  the  workhouse,  I  have  never  bothered  my- 
self to  save  more.  Not  that  any  extra  has  come  my 
way.  I'd  be  living  on  that  annuity  now,  and  enjoying 
myself  in  peace  and  comfort,  but  for  the  girls." 

"  I  wonder  that  Miss  Capel  has  not  married,"  said 
Anthony  Fiske,  reflectively. 

"  Miss  Capel  ?  Bessie  ?  "  echoed  her  father. 
"  What  should  I  do  without  her  ?  The  cat  would  keep 
house  as  well  as  the  others.  Of  course,  Bessie  never 
thought  of  marrying.  She'll  stay  with  me.  She'll  make 
my  income  go  twice  as  far  as  it  would,  if  I  was  left  to 
lodging-house  keepers  and  such  thieves." 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LARGE.  1 25 

"  But  if  she  outlives  you  ? "  suggested  Anthony 
Fiske. 

"  Oh,  what's  the  good  of  borrowing  trouble  ? " 
The  clouds  we  look  for  never  come,  answered  Mr. 
Capel. 

"  Well,  if  I  had  my  life  over  again,  I'd  do  very  dif- 
ferently," said  the  visitor,  shaking  his  frizzled  locks. 

"  So  would  I,"  assented  the  host. 

Anthony  Fiske  looked  at  him  wistfully.  "  I've 
thought  so  sometimes,"  he  said  sadly.  "  I've  thought 
if  Edward  Capel  had  only  known  how  the  silly, 
pondering,  loving  heart,  of  the  sweetest  girl  that  ever 
was,  was  goading  itself  to  madness,  with  his  wildness- 
es  and  negligences,  how  different  he  would  have  been  ! 
I've  often  wished  some  idea  of  it  had  struck  me,  and 
I  might  have  done  good  where  I  did  rather  evil.  For 
I'm  afraid  I  often  tempted  you  from  home  and  steady 
habits,  Capel.      I'm  afraid  I  did." 

Mr.  Capel  laughed  contemptuously.  "  The  mis- 
take lay  in  my  marrying  at  all,"  he  said.  "  I  was  not 
made  for  domestic  bliss." 

"No,  no,  don't  say  that,"  interrupted  Mr.  Fiske. 
"  You  might  as  well  assert  that  everybody  that  can't 
read  is  an  idiot  who  couldn't  learn.  Let  us  hope  we 
are  all  fit  for  something  more  than  we  attain.  Else 
what  am  I,  Capel  ?  " 

Mr.  Capel  didn't  think  the  question  worth  an  an- 
swer. 

"  We  might  as  well  go  to  bed,"  said  Mr.  Capel. 
"It  is  past  midnight." 


126  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

They  both  went  up  stairs  together.  The  master 
of  the  house  made  no  pretense  of  showing  his  visitor 
to  his  room,  but  just  paused  at  his  own  door,  until  he 
heard  the  guest  had  found  his. 

It  was  a  gloomy  suspicious  face  that  looked  back 
at  Mr.  Capel  from  his  toilet-glass.  "  I  wish  Fiske 
had  never  been  born,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "But 
I  don't  care  how  much  he  knows  or  how  little.  He 
can  stay  here  for  two  or  three  days  if  he  likes.  I'm 
not  going  to  let  him  think  I'm  frightened  of  him.  But 
if  he  thinks  I  am  going  to  keep  him  for  the  benefit  of 
his  silence,  he's  very  much  mistaken  !  If  he  chooses  to 
talk  over  old  stories  with  the  girls,  and  they  make  a 
fuss,  and  she — as  perhaps  she  may  (they  may  be  in 
league  together  for  aught  I  know) — Well,  I  don't 
care  !  Things  must  take  their  chance.  If  they  turn 
out  uncomfortably,  there's  my  annuity,  and  I'll  go  and 
live  in  the  country  !  " 

And  in  the  meantime  Anthony  Fiske  was  making 
himself  at  home  in  the  little  sloping-roofed  garret; 
had  taken  off  his  watch-chain  and  trinkets  (there  was 
no  watch)  ;  had  taken  from  his  pocket  the  Bible  he 
had  found  that  morning  ;  had  read  two  or  three  verses 
by  the  light  of  his  tallow-candle,  and  by  so  doing  had 
awakened  a  long-dormant  memory  of  himself,  a  little 
boy  in  frocks,  proud  to  spell  out  his  portion  from  a 
daily  text-book  ;  and  Anthony  Fiske  shut  the  Bible 
very  quickly,  and  was  beginning  a  sigh  but  turned  it 
into  a  yawn  1 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THREE  LOVE  STORIES. 


R.  Fiske  made  himself  quite  at  home,  and 
Philip  Lewis  was  not  a  little  perplexed  by 
the  new  arrival.  Mr.  Fiske  was  a  man,  and 
so  there  was  no  glamor  about  him  to 
deceive  poor  Philip,  who  soon  reckoned  him  up  and 
wrote  him  down  in  his  mind  as  "  a  worthless  adven- 
turer." All  the  more  so,  because  Sibyl  took  a  great 
dislike  to  the  visitor,  and  lost  no  opportunity  of  saying 
as  much  to  the  young  assistant. 

Mr.  Fiske  did  not  often  go  out  with  his  host  on 
his  evening  rambles.  He  sat  at  home  and  chatted 
with  the  young  ladies.  He  was  very  amusing,  full  of 
stories  and  hits  of  character,  gleaned  they  little  knew 
how.  It  was  wonderful  how  gay  Hester's  laugh  rang 
out  at  some  of  his  sallies.  Unconsciously,  even  to 
herself,  he  made  the  world  seem  a  pleasanter  place, 
and  life  an  easier  thing  than  hitherto.  He  would 
have  been  a  very  dangerous  companion  for  most 
young  people,  this  man,  looking  upon  the  world  as  a 
place  where  one  must  just  push    along  "  somehow," 


128  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

with  a  light-hearted  knowledge,  born  of  experience, 
that  there  can  never  be  a  day  too  dark  for  one  ray  of 
sunshine,  and  that  no  depth  of  misery  is  so  forlorn 
and  cheerless  as  it  seems  to  those  who  look  into  it 
from  their  outer  sunshine.  There  was  a  rich  vein  of 
cheerfulness  in  the  shallow  soil — a  vital  wealth  that 
would  have  raised  this  man  to  the  highest  beauty  of 
life,  if  his  hard  lines  had  been  drawn  by  duty,  and  not 
set  by  the  thoughtless  selfishness  of  his  youth.  In 
that  curious  division  of  qualities,  which,  after  all  per- 
haps makes  existence  endurable,  there  had  fallen  to 
the  share  of  this  man,  of  no  solid  principle,  of  no 
single  sterling  merit,  this  creature  of  chance,  and  of 
his  own  shriveling  necessities,  those  quick  impulses, 
that  perennial  flow  of  kindliness,  that  happy  instinct 
of  turning  up  the  bright  side  which  everything  has 
somewhere — blessings  which  many  a  "  righteous  man  " 
must  go  lacking  from  his  cradle  to  his  grave.  Anthony 
Fiske  knew  this,  and  the  purest  feeling  he  ever  had, 
was  the  simple  self-abasement  with  which  he  was  ready 
to  own  that  what  might  be  such  beautiful  virtues  in 
some,  were  very  tarnished  graces  upon  him.  "  They 
are  like  my  watch-chain,"  he  would  say  to  himself; 
"  people  think  there  must  be  something  fastened  to  it, 
but  there  isn't." 

Yet  the  experience  derived  from  the  society  of  this 
man  was  good  for  Hester,  to  whose  strained  vision 
life  seemed  like  a  relentless  machine,  with  a  mechani- 
cal faculty  for  picking  out  the  best  material  to  be 
crushed  first.     It  is  unhealthy  to  be  cribbed  and  cab- 


THREE    LOVE    STORIES.  I2Q 

ined  in  narrow  cells,  and  the  healthiest  will   suffer 
most  for  the  loss   of  the   exercise  their  strength  de- 
mands.    Hester  had  latent  powers  of  insight  and  ob- 
servation that  might  stand  her  in  good  stead  in  a  wide 
range.     But  a  constant  microscopic  observation  of 
our  meals,  our  garments,  and  the  air  we  breathe,  is 
scarcely  wholesome.     And  Hester's  life  was  cribbed 
and  cabined  in  a  very  narrow   cell.     She  had  read 
and  read  and  read,  until  her  head  was  as  dazed  as  a 
poor  prisoner's  may  be,  with  counting  the  nails  in  the' 
dungeon  door.     She  had  imagined  beauty,  much  as 
he    tries,  with    a   rusty  spike  to  carve  a  Madonna's 
head  on  his  stone  wall.     Her  affections  had  narrow- 
ed and  intensified  like  his  love  for  the  solitary  mouse 
that  shares  his  crumbs.     And  now,  in  the  dead  wall, 
a  window  was  suddenly  opened,  looking  out  on  the 
meadows  where  God  clothes  the  lilies  and  feeds  the 
ravens  !     Never   mind  that  its  glass   was  darkened 
and  soiled  !     Let  us  thank  God  when  we  get  his  sun- 
shine bright  and  pure,  but  we  shall  scarcely  attain  to 
that  thanksgiving,  unless  we  thank  him  first  for  what 
comes  through  imperfect  windows.     Let  us  never  be 
afraid   to   bless    God   for   the  good  that  reaches  us 
through  the  worst  of  men.     The  good,  so  far,  is  his 
good.     Whatever  is  good  is  his.     It  is  his  witness  in 
that  otherwise  dark  soul  ;  a  witness   which,  we   may 
trust  him,  not  one  in  this  wide  world  is  left  without. 
No,  not  the  vilest  drab,  or  coarsest  drunkard  in  yon- 
der black  alley — nor  yet  the  farthest  heathen,  ignor- 
antly  serving  his  fetish.     Original  depravity  ?     Natu- 
6* 


I30  I)    WD     DROSS. 


ral  goodness?  Let  us  leave  off  our  little  wrangling 
nt  these  things  whirh  are  so  easy  to  quarrel  over, 
because  their  whole  secret  is  neither  on  this  nor  on 
that,  and  let  us  reverently  remember,  who  said,  "Let 
both  grow  together  until  the  harvest." 

Dora,  too,  sat  more  in  the  parlor  than  she  had 
been  accustomed.  She  did  not  dislike  Mr.  Fiske, 
though  she  cared  little  for  his  odd  stories.  Dora 
could  not  catch  the  pathos  and  poetry  which  quite 
unconsciously  lurked  in  many  of  that  gentleman's 
sketches  of  human  nature.  Not  that  Mr.  Fiske  never 
aimed  at  being  pathetic  and  poetical,  but  when  he 
trie::,  he  became  merely  ridiculous,  especially  to  Hes- 
ter. Hester  knew  better;  she  saw  through  this — she 
only  wanted  his  facts,  and  she  had  an  instinctive 
knowledge  of  what  was  fact.  She  knew  what  was  all 
tinsel,  and  she  knew  what  was  a  real  thing,  disguised 
in  it — the  difference  that  must  always  be  between  the 
best  marionette  and  the  worst  actor.  She  knew  bet- 
ter than  Mr.  Fiske  himself.  She  threw  such  new 
lights  on  his  old  experiences  that  he  was  quite  startled. 
She  had  showed  him  cause  for  contempt  where  he  had 
respected, and  for  honor  and  admiration  where  he  had 
given  a  kindly  abject  sort  of  pity.  But  his  thoughts 
had  always  been  such  surface  thoughts,  that  any 
shrewd  adverse  commentary  tore  them  up  at  once, 
roots  and  all.  A  man's  habits  in  one  respect,  are  his 
habits  all  through.  If  he  shuffles  in  his  step,  depend 
upon  it,  his  brain  shuffles  too.  Originality  and  inde- 
pendence of  mind  are  not  for  such  as  this  Anthony 


THREE    LOVE    STORIES.  131 

Fiske,  who,  having  no  field  of  his  own  in  the  world, 
must  follow  the  most  cracked  and  rumbling  wagon, 
because  the  richest  gleanings  are  in  its  track.  There 
is  no  mind  more  slavishly  conventional,  than  that  of 
your  free  Bohemian.  He  can  see  nothing  but  his 
own  dirty  standard,  which  is  only  thought  original  by 
weak  minds  because  it  is  a  change  from  their  good 
old  household  banner  of  Right  and  Decency.  Some- 
thing of  this  was  in  Mr.  Fiske's  attraction  for  Dora. 

Here  was  a  man  who  had  not  walked  in  any  beaten 
track.  Thus  Dora  put  it.  Anthony  Fiske  himself, 
with  his  sad  candor,  would  rather  have  said  that  he 
had  walked  in  a  road  where  all  tracks  were  beaten 
out  by  particularly  weary  and  heavy  feet.  And  so 
Dora  sat  more  than  ever  in  the  parlor,  helped  to  that 
conclusion  by  the  fact,  that  the  more  attractive  the 
drawing-room  became  to  Mr.  Lewis,  the  duller  seemed 
the  society  there.  No  marvel  that  third  parties  won- 
der how  lovers  can  have  patience  with  each  other  ! 
They  cannot  see  them  unless  themselves  are  there  ! 

They  were  all  in  the  parlor;  Mr.  Fiske,  Lizzie,  Hes- 
ter, and  Dora;  two  sisters  at  work,  Dora,  doing  noth- 
ing, and  Mr.  Fiske  winding  some  cotton  for  Lizzie  ; 
the  skein  stretched  on  two  chairs  and  he  standing  up 
to  perform  the  task.  Mr.  Fiske  had  been  narrating 
an  incident  of  his  morning's  walk  ;  how  he  had  chanced 
to  see  the  gentleman  who  had  been  articled  in  his 
stead  in  his  uncle's  office  ;  how  he  had  been  stepping 
from  a  handsome  set  of  chambers  in  Lincoln's  Inn, 
into  a  neat  brougham,  where  sat  a  lady  and  a  little 


13^  '•'  'I  D    AND   DROSS. 

girl,  such  a  darling  little  girl ;  with  long,  fair  curls,  and 
she  kissed  him  as  he  got  in.  Mr.  Fiske  dwelt  upon 
that.  Looking  down  the  door-list,  Mr.  Fiske  saw  the 
familiar  name  of  his  old  comrade,  "  Frank  Clinchman, 
Solicitor." 

"  That's  the  way  the  world  wags,"  said  Anthony 
Fiske,  as  he  finished  the  narration.  "The  Clinch- 
mans  were  decent  people,  I  believe;  but  I  daresay  the 
old  tenant-farmer  father  would  open  his  eyes  at  those 
chambers  and  that  brougham  !  He  was  dead  before 
Frank  Clinchman  came  to  London,  and  earned  fifteen 
shillings  a  week  in  my  uncle's  office,  and  lived  off  it 
too.  He  used  to  be  a  dreadful  guy  sometimes,  poor 
fellow  !  I  used  to  make  fun  of  him  then,  but  I  can 
understand  it  now.  As  soon  as  he  got  a  guinea  a 
week,  he  began  to  help  his  mother.  Even  before  that, 
he  had  sent  her  presents  ;  for  our  old  housekeeper  told 
us  he  got  her  to  go  with  him  to  choose  a  shawl  to 
send  home  at  Christmas  time.  But  oh,  he  was 
dreadfully  mean  !  for  when  we  started  an  oyster-supper 
at  half  a  crown  a  head  for  the  first  of  August  before 
we  began  to  take  our  turns  of  holidays,  he  backed  out 
because  he  said  he  couldn't  afford  it !  Half  a  crown 
once  a  year  !  If  that's  the  way  people  go  a-head,  let 
Anthony  Fiske  stay  behind  !  " 

"  But  I  don't  call  it  mean  to  grudge  ourselves  that 
we  may  give  to  others,"  said  Hester.  One  of  the 
blessings  that  this  poor  rag  of  humanity  had  brought 
to  her,  was  that  somehow  she  could  always  speak  out 
her  mind   to  him,  and  many  an  impulse   which,  shut 


THREE    LOVE    STORIES.  133 

up  in  silence  and  darkness  corrodes  into  mere  bitter 
feeling,  if  clothed  in  words  and  sent  out  into  the 
sunshine,  will  grow  into  strong  and  beautiful  thought. 
"  I  call  it  mean  to  grudge  anybody  but  ourselves. 
To  expect  liberality  but  to  give  none.  To  keep  our- 
selves always  on  the  debtor's  side,  and  everybody  else 
on  the  creditor's." 

"  Well,  so  it  is.  I  don't  suppose  anybody  would 
deny  that,  if  it  is  stated  fairly.  But  Frank  Clinchman 
never  said  anything  more  than  'Couldn't  afford.' 
'  And  how  is  one  to  think  of  things  ? '  Poor  Frank  ! 
I  feel  that  he  must  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it  in 
those  days." 

"  But  he  has  a  good  time  now,"  replied  Hester, 
half  mischievously. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  ;  and  do  you  know,  after  all,  I 
do  think  he  saved  money  for  himself  when  he  was 
ever  so  poor,  for  he  had  enough  to  pay  for  the  stamp 
when  my  uncle  offered  him  his  articles  without  any 
fee.  Oh,  but  he  was  really  a  great  screw  !  He  used 
to  keep  a  private  diary — one  made  out  of  the  spoilt 
law  papers,  writing  on  the  blank  side.  He  left  it  on 
the  desk  once.  One  of  the  fellows  read  it,  and  fine 
fun  it  gave  us." 

"  Read  a  private  diary,  Mr.  Fiske  ?  "  asked  Dora, 
in  a  tone  which  gave  meaning  to  the  inquiry. 

"  Well,  you  see  it  was  lying  about,  and  perhaps 
the  clerk  did  not  know  what  it  was  when  he  took  it 
up,  and -then  he  just  read,  you  know.  It's  the  way 
things   happen.     There  was    a  list   of  Clinchman's 


134  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

expenses.  Three  shillings  a  week  for  his  bedroom, 
and  so  much  for  every  meal.  If  he  spent  a  penny 
more  one  day  he  made  it  up  the  next.  But  to  just 
show  you  he  didn't  grudge  himself  unless  he  chose,  I 
must  tell  you  he  gave  half  a  crown  a  quarter  for  a 
sitting  in  church." 

"  The  people  who  have  fewest  luxuries  are  always 
begrudged  one,"  said  Hester.  "  And,  besides,  if  he 
could  pay  at  all,  he  had  a  right  to  do  so,  as  much  as 
to  pay  for  the  use  of  his  bedroom.  What  he  gave 
shows  he  didn't  take  a  front  pew !  " 

"But  the  greatest  joke  of  all  was  when  we  found 
the  'Miss  Spillman'  in  the  entries:  'Met  Miss  Spil- 
man  at  week  night  service : '  '  Left  Wordsworth's 
poems  at  Miss  Spillman's  according  to  promise : ' 
'  Went  to  the  Times  office  to  insert  an  advertisement 
for  pupils  for  Miss  Spillman.'  Then  later,  '  Met  Mar- 
garet Spillman  at  week  night  service,  walked  home 
with  her,  took  a  little  round,  for  a  pleasanter  way,  it 
being  a  fine  evening  ; '  then,  '  Went  with  Margaret  to 
sec  the  skating  on  the  Serpentine;'  and  at  last: 
'Walked  with  Maggie  in  Kensington  Gardens.  Long 
confidential  talk.  I  proposed.  Dear  girl  ! '  You 
may  be  sure  we  never  forgot  that  '  Dear  girl  ! '  " 

"And  do  you  think  she  was  the  lady  in  the 
brougham  ? "  asked  Hester,  interested. 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  heard  they  were  married  at  last, 
after  waiting  ever  so  long.  She  was  a  daily  teacher, 
and  lived  by  herself  in  an  attic  in  Lambs-Conduit 
street.     I   forget  who  found   that  out.     There  was  a 


THREE    LOVE    STORIES.  I35 

great  nettle  geranium  at  her  window,  and  we  used  to 
think  it  fine  fun  to  walk  by  of  an  evening,  and  see  her 
sitting  behind  it,  at  work.  She  had  dark  hair,  and  so 
hai  this  lady — only  growing  a  little  gray." 

"  Well,"  Mr.  Fiske  went  on  after  a  moment's  pause  ; 
"  Frank  Clinchman  travels  in  his  own  brougham,  and 
I  walk  at  both  ends  of  my  omnibus  journey  to  keep 
down  the  fares.  And  I  suppose  there  is  something 
in  ourselves  that  explains  all  about  it.  But  yet  there's 
some  luck  in  the  matter.  Why,  my  cranky  old  uncle 
offered  him  his  articles  just  to  spite  me  for  turning  him 
up.  Clinchman  might  have  grubbed  out  his  whole 
life  in  ninety  offices  out  of  a  hundred  without  such  a 
chance  coming  to  him  !  " 

"  But  if  Mr.  Clinchman  had  not  waited  patiently, 
living  on  fifteen  shillings  and  a  pound  a  week,  and  so 
on  ?  And  if  he  hadn't  the  money  ready  for  the  stamp 
on  the  articles?  "  asked  Hester,  archly.  "  There  is  no 
such  a  thing  as  luck,  Mr.  Fiske.  It's  a  fancy  name 
for  being  always  at  your  duty,  and  so  sure  to  be  ready 
when  the  good  time  comes." 

"  There's  a  good  deal  in  that"  said  Mr.  Fiske, 
reflectively.  "  But  still  I've  known  people  stick  stead- 
ily to  their  post,  and  just  leave,  and  that  only  for  an- 
other sort  of  duty,  just  before  the  luck  came.  I  can 
give  you  an  instance  of  that  in  this  same  affair  of 
Clinchman's.  He  was  taking  a  salary  of  a  hundred 
pounds  a  year  when  my  uncle  gave  him  the  articles. 
Up  to  only  one  month  before  he  was  getting  but 
eighty.     And  how  did  he  get  that  last  rise  ?     I   will 


136  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


tell  you  :  The  clerk  before  him  was  named  Richard 
Wriksworth.  He  was  a  little  younger  than  Clinch- 
man,  though  his  superior,  and  he  had  been  in  my  un- 
cle's office  one  way  and  another  for  ten  years.  He 
was  a  very  quiet  young  man.  I  can  engage  it  was 
not  he  who  read  Clinchman's  diary,  and  made  fun 
about  Margaret.  He  had  a  widowed  mother,  too, 
who  had  some  small  annuity,  and  though  I  don't 
doubt  he  was  careful  enough,  he  was  not  obliged  to 
make  those  penny  and  half-penny  scrapings,  like 
Clinchman's.  And  yet  I  don't  know  whether  the  dif- 
ference was  not  rather  that  we  did  not  notice  him  so 
much  ;  he  was  so  very  quiet,  and  rather  delicate,  and 
so  sincerely  pious  that  I  fear  our  ways  of  going  on — 
thoughtless  young  fellows'  ways,  Miss  Capel — must 
have  been  a  real  trial  to  him,  sometimes.  He  used 
to  read  good  books,  and  I've  always  a  respect  for 
good  books  for  his  sake.  I've  seen  nasty,  stingy, 
canting  old  women  reading  the  very  same  volumes, 
and  seeming  to  find  comfort  out  of  them  to  continue 
to  be  their  miserable  selves.  But  I've  said  to  myself, 
'  Never  mind,  Anthony,  one  of  the  best  men  that  ever 
breathed  found  good  out  of  those  books.  I  hope 
you'll  take  to  them  yourself  some  day,  'Tony.' 
Richard  was  engaged,  too.  We  seemed  to  take  that 
quite  naturally.  I  never  remember  any  particular 
joking  on  that  score  ;  perhaps  because  it  never  seem- 
ed to  be  made  a  secret.  A  nice,  merry  little  grig  of 
a  thing  she  was,  too,  a  little  puss  of  a  thing.  She 
used  to  come  and  meet  him  of  an   evening.     I   don't 


THREE    LOVE    STORIES.  137 

think  Wriksworth's  mother  made  herself  quite  pleas- 
ant. I  saw  the  three  together  once  or  twice,  and 
then  the  little  lassie  was  uncommonly  prim  and 
proper,  quite  different  from  when  I'd  seen  her  walk- 
ing down  Holborn,  with  her  two  hands  clinging  round 
Richard's  arm.  Wriksworth  was  one  of  those  men 
who  keep  their  love  safe  shut  in  their  hearts,  like 
wine  in  a  cellar,  cool  and  fresh,  till  the  right  time. 
And  I  believe  that  little  Puss  knew  well  enough  she 
had  got  the  key,  and  that  the  right  time  had  come. 
Well,  Wriksworth  had  an  offer  of  another  situation  at 
twenty  pounds  more  a  year.  Thinking  of  his  duty  to 
little  Puss,  he  told  my  uncle  all  about  it,  hoping  he 
would  offer  the  same  after  such  faithful  services. 
My  uncle  wouldn't !  At  that  time  he  thought  he  had 
bagged  me.  So  Wriksworth  left,  and  Clinchman 
stepped  into  his  shoes,  and  a  fortnight  after  that  I 
went  away,  and  another  fortnight  later  Clinchman  got 
his  articles." 

"  And  did  you  ever  hear  any  more  of  Richard  ?  " 
asked  Miss  Capel. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Naturally  enough,  when  I  first  left, 
I  often  went  hanging  about  Lincoln's  Inn,  to  see  my 
old  chums.  I  used  to  see  him  and  the  lassie  meet  and 
go  away  together  the  same  as  ever.  But  they  never 
married.  The  work  at  his  new  office  was  a  great  deal 
harder  than  he  had  been  used  to,  and  he,  being  such 
a  nervous  man  and  making  conscientious  duty  of  every- 
thing, took  to  tic-douloureux  every  day  for  a  year,  and 
then  went  off  suddenly  in  a  brain  fever.     There  was  a 


138  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


quarter's  salary  due  to  him  when  he  died,  and  that, 
and  all  he  had  saved,  he  left  to  little  Puss,  who  was 
worse  off  than  an  orphan,  having  a  drunken  father, 
and  nothing  to  depend  on  but  a  stall  in  the  Pantheon 
Bazar.  She  lived  somewhere  in  Clerkenwell,  and  that 
was  how  she  had  always  taken  in  Lincoln's  Inn  so 
handily  on  her  way  home.  And,  do  you  know,  Miss 
Capel,  that  years  after,  when  I  was  strolling  in  that 
neighborhood,  I  saw  her  coming  down  Little  Queen 
street  just  as  she  used  to,  and  when  she  reached  the 
corner  where  he  had  always  met  her,  she  paused  and 
turned  back,  and  went  trotting  off  the  way  they'd 
always  gone — not  stalking  like  a  ghost,  but  looking  in 
at  the  shops,  just  as  they  used,  drapers'  sometimes, 
but  picture  shops  and  booksellers'  always.  She  was 
just  the  same  little  puss  of  a  thing — only  she  had  a 
sort  of  look  as  if  she  knew  a  happy  secret  that  had 
some  good  to  everybody  only  each  must  find  it  out 
oneself.  I  think  she  believed  he  met  her  still — some- 
how.    And  I  wouldn't  say  he  didn't — Miss  Capel  ?  " 

"  Oh,  surely  Mr.  Fiske  !  For  there  can  be  no  part- 
ing where  there  is  love  on  both  sides.  And  so  T  often 
think  the  separation  of  death  is  not  so  bitter  as  the 
severings  in  life."  But  as  she  said  it,  Miss  Capel  did 
not  give  even  so  small  a  sigh. 

And  then  Popps  brought  in  supper. 

The  summons  of  the  gong  was  only  obeyed  by 
Philip  Lewis.  "  Miss  Sibyl  does  not  want  anything !  " 
he  said.  He  was  very  silent  and  absent  during  the 
meal.     Hester  remembered  that   afterwards. 


THREE   LOVE   STORIES.  139 

She  went  up  stairs  before  Lizzie,  and  looked  into 
the  drawing-room  as  she  passed.  The  gas  was  turned 
down,  and  Sibyl  was  not  there.  She  went  on  to  the 
third  story.  Her  sister's  door  was  open,  and  the 
candles  lit  on  the  toilet-table. 

"  Is  that  you,  Hester  ?  "  cried  a  voice  that  seemed 
half-smothered  in  pillows. 

"  Yes  it  is,"  said  Hester,  by  no  means  inclined  to 
go  in  until  she  was  fairly  called. 

"Come  in,  then — I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Hester  went. 

Sibyl  raised  herself  on  the  couch,  propped  up  by 
her  elbow.  "  Philip  Lewis  has  come  to  the  point," 
she  said.  "  I  wish  he  hadn't.  Why  couldn't  he  leave 
well  alone  ? " 

Why  couldn't  Sibyl  keep  her  confidences  for  some- 
body else  ? — For  Lizzie,  who  was  angel  enough  to 
have  patience  even  with  this  form  of  human  nature  ? 
There  was  a  hot  rebellious  throb  in  Hester's  heart. 
It  was  too  hard  to  have  first  to  hear  of  Sibyl's  specu- 
lations, and  then  of  their  successful  result  now  spoken 
of  as  if  what  she  had  aimed  at  had  rather  been  thrust 
upon  her.  Should  she  be  false  and  speak  sweetly,  or 
should  she  be  true,  and  expose  herself  to  the  charge 
of  feminine  jealousy  and  malice  ?  Hester  did  not  even 
ask  herself  the  question. 

"  You  know  it  was  only  what  you  meant  him  to 
«'    "  said  Hester. 

libyl  laughed.     "  If  you  think  that  women  have  it 


140  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

all    their    own    way,  why    don't  you  try   yourself,  my 
dear  ?  "  she  asked. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause. 

"Well?"  said  Hester. 

"  Well,"  echoed  Sibyl,  mockingly. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  said  Hester,  impa- 
tiently. "  If  you  are  not  going  to  tell  me  anything, 
why  did  you  call  me  in  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  rejected  him,  Hester?" 

"  You  should.  You  know  you  don't  care  for 
him  !  " 

"  That's  the  way  you  jump  to  conclusions,  my  dar- 
ling !     Mr.  Lewis  does  not  think  so." 

Another  silence. 

"  No,  Hester,  I  have  not  rejected  him.  I'm  sure 
you  would  be  sorry  if  I  had,  for  I  know  you  think 
him  a  very  excellent  young  man.  I  told  him  I  was 
sure  you  would  approve  of  the  match,  and  that  when 
he  knows  you  better,  he'll  wonder  how  he  had  the  bad 
taste  to  pass  you  by,  preferring  me.  Of  course  we 
shan't  be  married  for  years.  And  everything  will  go 
on  exactly  as  before.     There  will  be  no  difference  !  " 

"  That  means  that  if  you  can  find  what  you  call  a 
better  chance,  you'll  take  it,"  said  Hester. 

"Well,"  answered  Sibyl,  composedly  ;  "as  I  said 
to  Mr.  Lewis,  nobody  knows  what  changes  years  may 
make.  As  long  as  we  both  like  each  other,  all  will 
be  well,  and  if  time  brings  in  any  difference,  I'm  sure 
we'd  both  be  the  very  last  to  keep  each  other  to  a 
bargain  that  would  be  only  in  letter  and  not  in  spirit. 


THREE    LOVE   STORIES.  141 

Living  in  the  same  house  there  will  never  be  any 
letters  or  nonsense.  I'm  not  going  to  wear  any 
engaged  ring.  He  wished  it  at  first,  but  I  brought 
him  to  reason.  (I  think  I  could  bring  him  to  any- 
thing.) 'What's  the  use  of  it?'  T  said;  'it  just 
makes  all  the  girls  hate  one,  and  doesn't  keep  the 
men  from  flirting  with  one — not  one  little  bit — rather 
the  reverse  ! '  It  is  a  very  comfortable,  common  sense 
arrangement." 

Like  her  father's  annuity,  it  was  Sibyl's  provision 
against  emergencies. 

"An  ounce  of  reality  is  worth  a  pound  of 
romance,"  she  said. 

Hester  wondered  if  they  had  the  same  weights 
and  measures  in  heaven  ! 

Sibyl  now  got  upon  the  tack  that  offended  Hester 
worse  than  her  worldliness.     She  grew  plaintive. 

"  I  know  it  might  have  been  different.  I  know  I 
could  have  loved  some  people  better  than  I  can  ever 
love  Philip.  I  know  who  might  have  been  my  one 
true  love.  But  it  was  not  to  be.  In  this  world  we 
must  take  things  as  they  come.  I  stand  at  the 
window  sometimes  and  look  out  at  the  trees  in  the 
moonlight — and  think — and  think — " 

"You'd  be  better  employed  then  if  you  went  down 
to  the  drawing-room,  lit  up  the  chandelier  and  played 
a  symphony  to  Mr.  Lewis  !  I  wish  you  both  joy  of 
each  other ! "  and  Hester's  patience  slipped  wholly 
out  of  her  control,  and  she  left  the  chamber  in  a 
manner  more  energetic  than  graceful. 


142 


GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


Was  the  world  a  lottery  in  which  Clinchman  and 
Margaret  put  in  their  hands  and  drew  out  joy,  and 
Richard  and  the  little  Puss,  sorrow — and  others  a 
bauble  truly,  but  yet  just  what  they  wanted — while 
blank  and  bitterness  remained  for  the  rest — that 
silent  et  cetera  to  which  Hester's  impatient  young 
heart  despairingly  doomed  itself? 

Poor  Hester !  She  forgot  that  Clinchman  and 
Margaret  could  not  have  seen  the  end  from  their 
beginning.  And  what  is  the  end?  Is  not  all  in  this 
life  only  the  beginning?  Richard  Wriksworth  knows 
all  about  that  now.  And  the  Lizzie  Capel's  and  the 
little  Pusses  are  as  happy  as  contented  heirs  who 
know  there  is  a  noble  fortune  laid  up  for  them,  when 
they  leave  their  School  of  Discipline,  and  have  a  joy- 
ful Coming  of  Age  in  their  Father's  House. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


DOWN    STAIRS. 


OPPS  was  in  her  kitchen.  It  was  one  of 
Mrs.  Edwardes'  days,  and  that  silent  woman 
had  just  entered,  and  was  hanging  up  her 
shapeless  bonnet  and  flimsy  shawl.  If  she 
had  not  been  shut  up  in  her  own  heavy  heart  she 
would  have  noticed  that  the  girl  was  very  quiet,  and 
during  all  her  little  arrangements  had  kept  her  face 
carefully  turned  to  the  dresser.  But  Mrs.  Edwardes 
did  not  notice  anything,  and  quite  unconsciously 
went  off  to  her  work  in  the  scullery. 

Then  the  girl  turned  round  with  a  sharp,  volcanic 
sob.  Oh !  life  may  tear  us  with  many  wounds,  but 
scarcely  one  of  them  has  so  sharp  a  pain  as  the  first 
pricks  of  a  nettle  in  the  posy  we  thought  all  roses. 
One  may  barely  see  the  mark  it  leaves,  but  the  poison 
may  be  conveyed  through  the  very  pores,  and  the 
pain  will  rankle  ! 

"  I  thought  it  was  all  a-goin'  to  be  so  nice,"  sob- 
bed Popps,  to  herself,  "  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  There 
seems   plenty   o'    niceness   goin'   in  the  world,  only 


144  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

perhaps  it's  like  granny  used  to  say,  we  can  see  the 
lumps  o'  cake  that  others  is  eating,  but  we  don't 
know  whether  the  flavoring  is  to  each  of  their  likings. 
Maybe  every  one  gets  the  wrong  bit !  And  yet  I'll 
not  believe  that — no,  I  won't.  It's  just  a  drop  o'  es- 
sence of  that  apple  which  Eve  eat,  and  it  sets  our 
teeth  a-scrapin,'.  it  do.  I  don't  see  why  I  was  to 
give  way  directly,  that  I  don't, — and  yet  I  wish  I 
had  !  "     And  there  was  another  sob. 

Somebody  had  heard  it.  Hester  had  entered  the 
kitchen,  so  quietly  that  Popps  had  not  observed  her, 
till  the  sob  was  fairly  out,  in  all  its  passionate  vehe- 
mence. Then  she  turned  again  to  her  refuge,  the 
dresser,  and  rattled  the  dishes  with  commendable 
activity. 

Hester  did  not  believe  her  ears.  She  turned 
brightly  to  the  maiden,  thinking  the  sound  was  far 
more  likely  to  have  been  an  incipient  laugh.  Hester 
was  always  in  sympathy  with  simple  honest  mirth. 
There  were  capacities  for  great  gladness  in  her  own 
nature,  a  sure  sign,  had  she  known  it,  that  the  wounds 
in  her  heart,  were  certainly  curable.  To  look  at  her, 
nobody  would  have  guessed  those  secret  wounds — a 
deception  as  blameless  as  the  pure  and  graceful  beauty 
of  many  a  gentle  woman,  dying  of  hideous  cancer. 
Strangers  called  her  "light-hearted."  Lizzie  thought 
her  "  the  life  of  the  house  ;  "  and  the  very  mirror  told 
her  that  she  was  a  wholesome  bonnie  lassie,  in  the 
human  garden  ;  something  like  the  hawthorn  among 
flowers.     Hester  wondered  at  her  own  face.     An  un- 


DOWN    STAIRS.  1 45 


happy  hungry  look  might  come  for  a  while,  but  it  flit- 
ted, it  never  fixed  there.  One  solution  of  this  mys- 
tery might  have  been  found  in  the  fact,  that  she  did 
not  enjoy  being  miserable.  She  did  not  cultivate  dis- 
content, yea,  she  rather  hated  it ;  and  though,  like 
much  in  this  life,  it  seemed  to  follow  the  more  the  fast- 
er she  fled  ;  still  her  attitude  towards  it  was  always 
flight.  She  was  not  one  of  those  people  whom  we  can 
scarcely  imagine  happy  in  any  world  where  the  Devil 
and  Death  and  all  their  discordant  legions  are  no 
longer  at  hand  to  be  contended  with  and  lamented 
over.  She  wanted  rest.  Not  because  she  was  too 
weak  to  combat,  but  because  there  was  too  high  met- 
tie  in  her,  patiently  to  endure  contest  without  victory. 
And  the  time  for  victory  was  not  yet.  The  other  ex- 
planation of  the  broad  clear  brow,  with  its  brave  out- 
looking  eyes,,  and  the  sensible  mouth,  just  a  smiling 
curve  in  the  firm  lines,  lay  in  the  truth  that  some 
countenances  are  retrospects  and  others,  prophecies. 
There  are  women  in  our  great  cities,  into  whose  deeds 
the  sun  dares  not  look,  yet  whose  foul  blaspheming 
words  pour  through  lips,  still  as  soft  as  they  were 
when  they  murmured  the  catechism  in  the  village- 
school;  whose  faces  remain  the  same  fair,  childlike  faces 
that  their  mothers  used  to  kiss  in  the  early  evening 
twilight.  The  rosebud  fell  into  the  gutter,  but  you  can 
see  what  it  used  to  be.  And  there  are  other  women, 
living  reserved  monotonous  lives,  in  whose  faces  you 
see  something  that  promises  a  rare  blossom  some  day, 
in  this  world  if  the  weather  favors — somewhere  else, 
7 


146  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


if  their  spring  is  late.  I  think  any  wise  man  would 
have  turned  round  to  look  at  Joan  of  Arc  while  she 
was  still  the  serving-maid  at  the  inn.  Such  faces  are 
like  bulbs,  which  a  child  might  throw  away  ;  but  the 
botanist  picks  them  up  and  knows  their  value  ! 

So  she  turned  to  Popps,  ready  to  develop  and  re- 
spond to  what  she  thought  must  be  an  irrepressible 
giggle.  But  the  sturdy  red  hand  was  lifted  to  dash 
away  a  tear.  "  Why,  Popps  !  "  said  Hester,  in  sur- 
prise : 

"  Its  no  use,  Miss ;  it  isn't  anything,  it's  only  the 
nasty  way  o'  the  world,  that's  what  it  is.  The  sooner 
one's  out  of  it,  the  better,  that's  all.  But  one's  sure 
to  get  one's  fill,  as  one's  passin'  through."  And,  re- 
straint being  removed,  Popps,  sobbed  heartily. 

'  'There's  nothing  the  matter  with  Tom  ?  "  asked 
Hester. 

"No,  Miss.  Leastways  nothing  much.  It  is  not 
much  to  have  a  cold  in  the  head  ;  but  its  troublesome 
enough  an'  may  turn  to  any  thin'.  And  so  with  other 
sort  o'  matters." 

Hester  could  scarcely  refrain  from  a  smile  at  the 
homely  illustration.  "  Come,  Popps,  tell  me  all  about 
it,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  Miss" — and  Popps  gulped  down  a  great 
sob — "  you  know  next  Sunday's  Easter  Sunday.  You 
must  leave  your  winter  things  off  sometime,  mustn't 
ye  ?  And  I'd  made  a  new  bonnet.  I'd  went  all  along 
Oxford  street  looking  into  the  bonnet  shops,  not  as 
I'm  such  a  fool   as  to   think  that  sort   would  become 


DOWN    STAIRS.  147 


me,  but  just  to  get  an  idea,  as  Tom  calls  it.  I  thought 
I'd  have  my  last  year's  cleaned,  for  the  straw's  good, 
though  a  bit  browned,  and  I  thought  I'd  like  pink  rib- 
bons for  a  change.  An'  I  saw  a  nice  bit  o1  artificial 
ivy  to  sell  for  four-pence,  and  I'd  a  piece  of  good  black- 
silk  fringe  that  I  thought  would  go  fine  around  the 
curtain.  And  I  put  on  clean  aprons  two  nights  a  run- 
nin',"  said  Popps,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  grief,  "so  as  I 
shouldn't  dirty  it  while  I  was  a-doin'  of  it.  And  this 
mornin'  as  Tom  came  in  to  see  what  makes  the  back 
airy  door  scrape  so,  I  showed  it  to  him." 

"And  didn't  Tom  like  it?"  asked  Hester,  finding 
that  the  damsel's  grief  had  come  to  a  gulf  of  bitter- 
ness, over  which  a  leading  question  might  assist  it. 

"  First  o'  all  he  said,  what  did  I  want  a  puttin'  on 
finery  on  Easter  morning?  It  was  an  old  Church  of 
England  superstition,  and  he  was  out  o'  patience  with 
dissenters  for  stickin'  to  the  manners  and  customs  of 
those  who  were  always  looking  down  upon  'em,  just  as 
if  they  couldn't  leave  'em  to  themselves,  and  make  ways 
of  their  own,  and  not  half  the  time  think  a  very 
weddin'  wasn't  all  square,  unless  it  was  done  by  a 
parson  in  the  parish  church.  Well,  I  answered  him 
fair  enough,  I'm  sure.  I  said  the  Church  of  England 
has  a  deal  o'  good  in  her  and  has  done  a  lot  of  good, 
and  my  Miss  Lizzie  herself  belongs  to  it.  (Maybe 
what  I  said  would  have  come  sweeter  like  if  I'd  said 
that  I'd  been  put  in  mind  o'  these  very  things  just 
lately  by  Missis,  when  I  was  a-runnin'  clown  of  it  my- 
self), "  admitted   Popps,  parenthetically.     "  I  said  I 


148  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

wasn't  always  thinkin'  o'  the  Church  of  England,  and 
wasn't  a  goin'  to  put  myself  out  o'  my  way  to  spite 
them  as  wouldn't  notice  I'd  done  it.  And  then" — 
and  then  the  sobs  broke  out  afresh. 

"  And  then  ? "  echoed  Hester,  catching  up  the  fall- 
ing link. 

"  And  then  he  said  the  bonnet  put  him  mind  o' 
the  sweeps  on  May-day — and  that  he  had  no  patience 
with  such  fal-de-rals,  and  he  shouldn't  care  to  go  out 
with  me  in  it — and  then  I  said  back  'twasn't  me  that 
asked  him  to  go  out  with  me,  and  I'd  always  been 
quite  happy  a-going  by  myself." 

And  the  sobs  came  thick  and  heavy. 

"  You  dear,  silly  Popps,"  said  Hester  kindly,  with 
just  a  ray  of  playfulness  to  liglften  the  sympathy; 
"  what  did  you  care  for  the  bonnet?  You  had  only 
thought  to  please  Tom.  And  you  might  have  made 
that  very  bonnet  please  him  more  than  anything  if 
you'd  said,  "  As  you  don't  like  it,  Tom,  I'll  alter  it." 

"  But  Tom  oughtn't  to  ha'  spoke  so  hasty ! " 
sobbed  Popps. 

"  No,  he  oughtn't.  And,  of  course,  he  is  ever  so 
sorry  for  it  now.  Why,  Popps,  dear,  aren't  you  sorry 
for  answering  back  ?  and  how  much  harder  it  must  be 
to  know  one  spoke  sharp  first  !  " 

The  sobs  grew  a  little  quieter.  But  Hester  was 
giving  comfort  with  which  her  own  heart  could  not 
wholly  go.  It  was  not  that  she  felt  it  must  be  hard 
to  take  reproof  from  a  dear  hand,  or  to  sacrifice  our 
own  notions    to  the  little  whims  of  those   whom  we 


DOWN    STAIRS.  1 49 


love.  But  ought  not  they  in  turn  to  love  us  enough 
not  to  ride  even  their  superior  taste  rough-shod  over 
our  poor  attempts  to  please  ?  Hester  could  under- 
stand how  it  was.  She  had  gone  to  one  or  two 
lectures  at  the  celebrated  Mechanics'  Institute,  whose 
classes  Tom  Moxon  attended.  She  had  seen  the 
well-dressed  middle-class  girls  with  whom,  while  there, 
he  was  on  a  certain  footing  of  equality.  Tom  might 
not  like  to  meet  such,  when  in  company  with  a  bonnet 
like  poor  Popps'.  The  chances  were  ten  to  one  that 
they  would  not  think  this  offending  head-gear  at  all  out 
of  keeping  with  the  "working  carpenter."  He  had 
nothing  to  do  with  them,  beyond  perhaps  a  civil 
"  good-evening,"  given  with  a  profound  feeling  of 
encouragement  to  a  young  working-man  who  endeav- 
ored to  improve  his  mind.  Naturally,  he  would 
become  less  "  interesting"  when  he  had  a  wife  of  any 
sort,  in  Popps'  bonnet  or  otherwise.  If  Tom  prefer- 
red such  reflected  light  to  genuine  sunshine — well, 
there  was  painful  truth  in  poor  Popps'  retort, 
"  'Twasn't  her  that  asked  him  to  go  with  her  !  " 

All  this  Hester  felt,  but  not  one  word  of  it  did  she 
utter.  She  would  not  bring  forth  weapons  which,  in 
the  face  of  this  actual  conflict,  she  somehow  felt 
might  not  be  the  very  best.  She  could  see  that  it 
was  not  herself,  but  Tom,  that  Popps  wanted  to 
justify,  and  that  her  keenest  trouble  was,  that  she 
couldn't  quite  make  herself  wholly  wrong,  and  him 
utterly  right. 

Hester  could  find  nothing  to  say  but  this :  "  Give 


150  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


me  the  bonnet,  Popps,  and  let  me  see  what  I  can  do 
for  it." 

Popps  had  only  time  to  snatch  it  from  the  band- 
box, before  a  man's  step  on  the  kitchen  stairs  made 
her  hurry  off  to  hide  her  crying  face  in  the  scullery. 
It  was  Mr.  Anthony  Fiske,  with  an  empty  water-bottle 
in  his  hand.     He  came  down  humming  : 

"  Sae  bide  ye  yet,  and  bide  ye  yet, 
Ye  little  ken  what  may  betide  ye  yet." 

"  O  Miss  Hetty  !  "  he  said,  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  I 
thought  there  was  nobody  here,  not  even  the  domes- 
tic genii.  For  I've  been  ringing  my  bed-room  bell 
for  the  last  half  hour,  and  so  found  leisure  at  last  to 
remember  two  good  old  proverbs,  that  it  would  have 
been  better  had  I  oftener  borne  in  mind,  '  Help  your- 
self and  your  friends  will  love  you,'  and  '  if  you  want 
anything  done,  do  it  yourself.'  And  in  point  of  fact, 
why  should  a  lazy  fellow  like  me  take  a  hard-working 
girl  like  Popps  up  the  house,  to  fill  my  water-bottle  ?  " 

"  Because  it's  Popps'  duty, — and  I  know  she 
would  wish  to  do  it,"  said  equitable  Hester.  She  has 
not  heard  the  bell,  and  I  am  sorry  you  have  the 
trouble  to  come  down  stairs,"  and  she  made  a  move- 
ment to  take  the  bottle  herself,  that  Popps  might  be 
screened  from  the  curious  observation  of  the  visitor. 

But  Mr.  Fiske  gallantly  resisted.  "  I  have  been 
down  here  before  and  I  know  where  the  filter  is,"  he 
said  ;  "  and  it's  quite  a  treat  to  me  to  see  a  kitchen 
and  kitchen  offices.     They  seem   so  homelike.     You 


DOWN    STAIRS.  151 


may  pay  for  drawing-rooms  and  dining-rooms  at  any 
hotel,  but  you  can't  pay  for  admission  into  the  kitch- 
en. There  are  things  you  can't  have  for  mere  money, 
Miss  Hester.  Things  you  can  have  as  free  as  air  if 
you  seek  them  at  the  right  time.  I  only  wish  there 
was  some  royal  road  to  experience  !  " 

And  he  went  off  into  the  scullery  and  as  Hester 
went  up  stairs  she  heard  Popps  scuttle  away,  and 
make  a  precipitate  dive  into  the  coal-cellar  beyond. 
On  what  little  links  do  great  chains  sometimes  hang! 

Mrs.  Edwardes  was  standing  before  the  sink,  clean- 
ing out  the  saucepans,  that  dirtiest  and  most  repul- 
sive piece  of  domestic  industry,  which  is  such  bitter 
discipline  to  many  a  trim  active  maid-of-all-work. 
Only  a  little  patch  of  sunlight  could  ever  enter  the 
scullery,  and  in  that  little  patch  she  stood.  It  could 
not  brighten  her.  There  was  no  point  on  which  it 
could  seize  in  the  dull,  coarse  dress,  the  strangely 
dead  hair,  with  its  thick  flecking  of  white,  or  the  yel- 
low-pale face.  She  did  not  even  lift  her  eyes  to  meet 
it. 

Mr.  Fiske  stepped  on  gayly.     He  had  resumed 

his  song — 

"  Ye  little  ken—" 

Why  did  it  die  so  suddenly  on  his  lips  ?  And  he 
stood  still,  like  one  struck  with  a  swift,  nameless  ter- 
ror. Surely  that  place  was  too  homely  and  the  hour 
too  bright,  for  ghosts  ! 

Mrs.  Edwardes  turned  and  faced  him.  Whatever 
the  horror  was,  they  both  saw  it,  only  what  had  startled 


152  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

him,  did  not  come  quite  so  sharply  upon  her  !  For  a 
moment  a  ghastly  youthfulness  seemed  to  sweep  over 
her  gray  gaunt  figure.  The  rigid  lines  of  her  face 
broke  up,  the  mouth  trembled  irresolutely,  and  the 
eyes  fell.  Only  for  a  moment,  but  time  enough  for 
Anthony  Fiske  to  step  forward  impulsively.  Time  for 
nothing  more.  The  sternness  flashed  back,  and  the 
gray  eyes  looked  up  with  that  strange  repulsion  in 
them  when  it  seems  as  if  the  spirit  shut  itself  behind  a 
screen  where  it  can  watch,  and  yet  defy  watching. 
Then  she  turned  again,  and  lifted  another  foul  vessel 
in  her  polluted  hands. 

Anthony  Fiske  stole  away.  As  he  went  up  stairs 
he  crept  by  the  wall,  drawing  his  hand  along  as  he 
went.  He  went  straight  up  to  his  own  attic  chamber. 
The  window  was  open,  and  the  room  was  bright  with 
sunshine,  and  gay  with  the  spring-twitter  of  birds  out- 
side. He  drew  a  long  gasp  of  reviving,  as  we  might 
on  regaining  the  fresh  air,  after  a  visit  to  some  damp 
and  dismal  charnel-house.  He  set  the  water-bottle  in 
its  place,  and  never  once  noticed  that  he  had  not  re- 
filled it.     Then  he  sat  down  by  the  open  window. 

The  sounds  of  common  household  life  went  on 
around  him.  He  heard  quick  foot-steps  on  the  stairs, 
openings  and  shuttings  of  doors,  little  cheerful  domes- 
tic colloquies.  But  he  sat  and  wiped  his  brow,  and 
breathed  hard  and  heavily.  How  would  you  feel, 
reader,  if  in  a  friend's  house  you  innocently  opened 
what  you  thought  to  be  a  china  closet  and  found  in- 
stead— a  skeleton  ?     A. skeleton,  too,  on  whom  some 


DOWN    STAIRS.  1 53 


lingering  lock  of  hair  or  poor  rag  of  raiment,  revealed 
that  these  were  bones  which  you  had  once  seen  clothed 
in  youth  and  beauty  ? 

Anthony  Fiske  sat  quite  still.  He  could  not 
think.  Only  his  mind  kept  snatching  at  little  memo- 
ries as  we  seize  swift  glimpses  of  some  of  the  pictures 
in  a  rapidly  turned-over  portfolio.  Now  a  vision  of  a 
house  among  vines,  himself  outside  in  the  sunshine,  a 
helpless  invalid  on  a  couch,  merry  laughter  from 
within,  and  a  tall  slight  figure  that  came  through  the 
low  window  opening  upon  the  terrace.  A  tall  slight 
figure,  in  a  pale  green  robe  with  white  trimmings. 
Such  a  pleasant  cup  of  tea  she  brought  him.  And 
she  stayed  there  with  him  till  a  voice  called  from 
within.  And  it  felt  lonely  after  she  was  gone.  The 
sun  went  down  suddenly  and  all  the  sky  was  gray, 
and  a  foreign  waiter  came  to  lead  Monsieur  Fiske  to 
his  chamber. 

Then  a  gaily-lit  room,  full  of  beautiful  and  richly- 
clad  women,  one  of  them  sitting  a  little  apart ;  who 
did  not  care  how  the  passing  feet  trampled  the  velvet 
robe  that  lay  unheeded  round  her.  A  white  woman 
she  was,  with  a  wedding-ring  on  her  hand,  and  as 
fair  a  woman  as  any  there,  whose  smiles  would  have 
been  courted  readily,  had  she  smiled,  and  who  would 
have  been  moved  to  smile,  had  her  watching  gaze 
ever  wandered  from  one  fresh  stalwart  figure  that 
moved  to  and  fro  everywhere,  except  towards  her. 

Then  a  painted  saloon   and  plenty  of  candelabra. 
A  balcony  outside,  and   an  odor  of  cigars  coming  in 
7* 


154  GOLD    AND    Dl 


with  the  moonlight.  The  sort  of  place  where  you 
might  as  well  expect  snowdrops  to  grow,  as  virtue  ; 
many  men  and  several  women,  with  rouged  faces,  bard 
.  and  high  glib  voices  :  the  door  just  left  ajar,  and 
a  white  face  coming  through  the  dark  and  frightened 
eyes  running  over  the  groups  till  they  caught  sight  of 
a  couple  at  the  far  end,  the  man's  face  in  full  view,  the 
woman's  only  sideways,  shaded  by  a  veil  that  made  it 
look  almost  pretty.  It  was  ugly  enough  in  reality. 
Anthony  remembered  that.  This  poor  scrapegrace, 
Anthony  Fiske,  had  never  thought  a  woman  pretty  if 
she  was  not  good. 

There  was  one  more  picture.  This  was  of  a  very 
early  morning.  Himself  wandering  aimlessly  among 
the  vines,  while  a  carriage  dashed  along  the  road  be- 
low him.  He  had  thought  nothing  of  it  at  the  time, 
only  he  had  fancied  that  he  knew  one  of  the  boxes  in 
the  dickey,  and  had  half  wondered  in  a  casual  way 
which  of  his  Ligney  friends  was  going  for  a  trip.  It 
was  but  a  small  box  in  brown  holland,  with  red  edg- 
ings. A  very  small  box.  It  could  not  have  held 
dresses.  Certainly  it  did  not  hold  that  pale-green  robe 
with  the  white  trimmings,  which  Anthony  Fiske  saw 
afterwards  in  the  possession  of  the  barmaid  of  the  Au- 
berge.  It  had  grown  old-fashioned,  and  was  soiled 
and  crumpled,  but  he  had  seen  the  girl  remodeling  it 
with  her  busy  foreign  fingers.  "  It  will  vash,  Mon- 
sieur,'' she  had  said.  "And  it  is  an  ill  wind  that 
blows  no  good,  as  you  Anglais  say,  for  my  vages  are 
very  small,  and  ma  in  re  is  a  widow." 


DOWN    STAIRS.  155 


There  was  a  loud  double  knock  at  the  door,  and 
then  a  bluff  voice  in  the  hall,  and  Sibyl's  light  metal- 
lic laugh,  announced  that  some  pleasantries  were  pass- 
ing between  her  and  her  father.  Anthony  Fiske  step- 
ped out  upon  the  landing  and  listened.  When  he 
heard  the  office  door  close  and  then  silence,  he  step- 
ped down  stairs.  "  Anthony  Fiske  had  often  spoken 
when  he  should  have  held  his  tongue,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  but  he  will  never  hold  his  tongue  when  he  ought 
to  speak.  Capel  cannot  know  of  this,  and  he  must 
be  told.    It  is  too  horrible  f ' 

He  knocked  at  the  office  door.  Mr.  Capel  cried, 
"  Come  in,"  cheerily.  He  was  seated  behind  his 
desk,  his  face  aglow  with  comfort  and  satisfaction. 
He  had  spent  the  morning  with  a  builder,  who  had 
just  paid  him  a  tolerable  bill,  and  they  had  dined  to- 
gether at  a  hotel  at  seven-and-sixpence  a  head  exclu- 
sive of  wines.  But  the  radiance  died  when  he  saw 
Anthony  Fiske's  terror-stricken  face.  He  did  not  see 
it  as  terror-stricken,  only  as  concentrated.  "  He  has 
lived  on  me  for  a  fortnight  already,"  he  thought, 
"  and  he  thinks  it  cannot  go  on  much  longer  without 
some  explanation  between  us,  so  the  whole  artillery  is 
about  to  explode  !     Now  for  it !     I  am  ready  ?  " 

"  Capel,"  whispered  Anthony  Fiske,  "  don't — 
don't  put  yourself  out — but — if  you  only  knew — what 
— who  is  in  your  very  house  !  " 

"  I  can  get  full  information  as  to  the  inmates  of  my 
habitation  at  a  somewhat  less  cost  than  your  board 
and  lodging,  Fiske,"  said   Mr.  Capel,  turning   round 


156  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


on  his  stool  so  suddenly  that  his  forehead  nearly 
touched  the  other's  bent  head,  and  caused  him  to  start 
backwards. 

Mr.  Fiske,  quite  innocent  of  any  predatory  inten- 
tion, or  of  anything  beyond  the  sponging  instincts  of 
his  limp  nature,  did  not  understand  this  speech  in  the 
least.  Nor  had  he  time  then  to  try  to  do  so,  but  in 
the  meantime,  accepted  it  meekly;  humble-pie,  at 
least,  being  food  that  he  always  felt  he  honestly  de- 
served ! 

"  But  she  is  here  !  Oh,  can't  you  understand  ?  " 
he  pleaded.  "  I  don't  like  to  say  the  plain  name  to 
you." 

"  I  tell  you  I  know  all  about  it,"  returned  the  other 
with  a  hoarse  laugh.  "  I  never  interfere  with  any- 
body's right  to  independent  action — 1  don't.  When 
she  ran  away,  she  can't  say  I  ran  after  her.  When  she 
chose  to  come  back  in  her  own  fashion,  I  let  her  come. 
As  for  the  girls,  Anthony  Fiske,  you  can  go  and  tell 
them  all  about  it,  if  you  like — I'll  not  hinder  you.  It 
will  serve  them  instead  of  novels  for  the  next  twelve- 
month." 

Anthony  Fiske  left  his  side  and  came  round  and 
stood  before  him — stood  stark  upright,  with  his  frisky 
hair  very  frisky  indeed. 

"  I  don't  envy  you  now,  Edward  Capel,"  he  said. 

He  said  it  as  solemnly  as  a  curse.  Then  he  turned 
and  left  the  room,  and  heard  a  brutal  laugh  behind 
him. 

"  If  I  was  as  I  ought  to  be,  I'd  leave  this  house 


DOWN    STAIRS. 


157 


this  very  moment,"  soliloquized  Anthony  Fiske.  "  But 
when  one  has  not  ten  shillings  in  the  world,  what  is 
one  to  do  ?  I  see  one  must  be  frugal  and  industrious 
if  one  is  to  keep  one's  own  feelings — though  they  don't 
eat,  or  wear  out  shoes  1 " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


MR.    CAPEL'S    WALK. 


R.  CAPEL  had  only  laughed  as  Anthony 
Fiske  left  him.  The  sudden  burst  of 
righteous  indignation,  and  the  mock  dignity 
which  clothed  it,  struck  him  only  as 
supremely  ludicrous.  That  anybody  should  think  it 
worth  while  to  be  angry  about  anything  except  a 
spoiled  dinner,  was  to  him  an  amusing  mystery. 
When  he  was  young,  he  had  himself  been  weak 
enough  to  fly  into  passions  with  his  tailors,  but  that 
was  a  folly  he  had  parted  with  for  many  a  day. 

Nevertheless  the  laugh  was  followed  by  a  dark 
cloud  of  gloom.  Did  he  feel  the  sad  loneliness  of  a 
black  secret  kept  from  those  who  still  gave  him  their 
innocent  affection  ?  Did  he  realize  the  degradation 
of  falling  from  the  envy  of  even  such  as  Anthony 
Fiske?  Some  men,  however  guilty,  would  have  risen 
in  wrath,  and  bidden  the  contemner  to  carry  his  con- 
tempt at  least  beyond  the  threshold  that  sheltered 
him.  It  was  no  fear  of  the  exposure  that  might  fol- 
low a  quarrel  which  deterred   him,  for  whether  they 


MR.    CAPEL'S    WALK.  1 59 

quarreled  or  not,  it  never  struck  Edward  Capel  that 
Anthony  Fiske  could  possibly  shut  the  skeleton-cup- 
board without  calling  others  to  look.  Anyhow  he 
regarded  exposure  as  a  certainty. 

But  what  a  bother  it  all  was,  to  be  sure  ! 

If  people  would  only  take  life  rationally  as  he 
always  wanted  to  do !  If  they  would  only  be  cool ! 
Why  need  they  excite  themselves,  and  force  him  into 
excitement  ?  What  a  blessing  it  would  be,  if  only 
somebody  would  keep  cool  !  At  point  after  point,  he 
could  see  that  a  stoicism  like  his  own  could  stop  all 
further  worry  and  flurry.  Why  couldn't  Anthony 
Fiske  know  when  he  was  well  off,  and  eat  his  dinner, 
and  sleep  in  his  garret,  without  raking  up  old  stories. 
And  when  the  girls  heard  about  it — as  of  course  they 
would — why  couldn't  he  trust  them  to  give  no  further 
sign  than  perhaps  to  ask  for  some  new  dresses  or 
bonnets,  trusting  that  so  sensible  a  behavior  would 
merit  such  moderate  reward  '?  Hadn't  they  enough 
to  amuse  them,  looking  for  husbands,  and  dressing 
themselves  ?  He  believed  Sibyl  had.  If  she  were 
the  only  one  it  might  be  all  right  yet.  But  those 
other  two  were  so  dreadfully  in  earnest  about  every- 
thing except  what  seemed  to  him  to  be  their  own 
proper  business.  Yes,  it  was  a  disagreeable  affair. 
And  just  as  Sibyl  had  done  her  duty  as  a  daughter, 
by  giving  him  a  prospect  of  getting  rid  of  her  mainten- 
ance, and  so  bringing  him  one  step  nearer  to  retire- 
ment on  the  annuity.  And  what  would  Philip  Lewis 
say  to  this  goblin  of  Anthony  Fiske's?     Philip  was 


l6o  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

another  uneasy  soul.  Not  that  Mr.  Cape)  feared  he 
would  offer  Sibyl  her  release.  "He  does  not  think 
such  angels  as  she  are  to  be  found  everyday,"  said  he, 
grinning  to  himself.  But  still  he  would  make  a  fuss, 
and  be  another  raging  element  in  the  storm  which  was 
gathering. 

Oh  dear,  dear  !  how  hard  it  is  to  care  for  nothing 
but  comfort — and  to  be  deprived  of  it  after  all ! 
Savory  meals,  soft  beds  and  friendly  indifference, 
why  every  cat  gets  as  much — not  every  clog  for  be- 
ing a  nobler  animal,  he  must  keep  guard  and  fetch 
and  carry.  Something  is  expected  of  him,  and  he 
gets  cuffed  for  his  failures.  But  oh,  it  is  hard  to  aim 
at  what  every  cat  gets,  and  yet  to  miss  it  ! 

Mr.  Capel  got  up  and  stretched  himself.  He 
should  go  for  a  walk.  There  were  some  plans  that 
he  had  intended  to  revise  to-night,  but  they  must  wait 
till  to-morrow.  One  could  make  a  capital  book  of 
"  Proverbs  transposed  as  practiced/'  and  Mr.  Capel's 
contribution  to  such  work  would  be,  "  Never  do  to- 
day what  you  can  possibly  put  off  till  to-morrow.-" 

Though  the  evenings  were  lengthening,  the  air 
was  still  chilly,  and  he  was  too  prudent  to  go  out 
without  his  great-coat.  As  he  was  drawing  it  on, 
Hester  came  down  stairs  with  Popps'  remodeled 
bonnet  in  her  hand.  She  had  found  some  neat  dark- 
green  ribbon,  not  new,  with  which  to  trim  it,  and  had 
put  a  simple  lilac  flower  in  the  cap.  It  was  very  neat 
and  pretty.  The  neatness  and  prettiness  escaped  her 
father's   eye,  but   not  the  ironed  ribbon,  the  coarse 


MR.  capel's  walk.  161 

straw,  and  the  flower  he  remembered  from  last  sum- 
mer. So  it  was  very  ironically  that  he  asked  if  that 
was  her  last  new  fashion  ? 

Hester  felt  particularly  bright  that  afternoon. 
The  bonnet  looked  better  than  she  had  dared  to 
hope.  So  she  sincerely  took  her  father's  words  in 
good  part,  and  th  ught  that  it  must  be  really  a  suc- 
cess, as  he  seemed  to  think  it  quite  suitable  for  her- 
self, while  generally  he  scoffed  heartily  at  everything 
that  she  or  Lizzie  bought  or  made. 

"  It's  for  Popps/  she  answered,  cheerfully.  "  She 
had  not  trimmed  it  veiy  well,  so  I  offered  to  do  it  for 
her.  You  know  she  wants  to  look  very  nice  now, 
father,"  she  added,  archly. 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  he  said.  "  Very  kind  of  you  ,  but 
think  of  yourself  too.  What  are  you  going  to  have  for 
your  new  bonnet  ?  " 

"  Straw,  with  white  ribbons  and  forget-me-nots. 
We're  going  to  buy  them  to-morrow,  and  trim  them 
ourselves,"  said  Hester,  carried  out  of  herself  in  anx- 
iety to  return  a  pleasing  answer  to  such  unwonted  in- 
quiry.    "  You  like  blue  and  white,  don't  you,  father  ?" 

"  Oh  yes !  I  like  anything.  Have  them  pretty, 
though.  After  all,  you're  not  a  bad  looking  little  girl, 
Hester,  if  you  only  dressed  yourself  like  other  people. 
Tat-ta."     And  he  was  gone. 

Hester  went  down  to  the  kitchen.  It  was  not  al- 
ways that  her  father  spoke  as  kindly  as  this.  She  was 
glad  of  such  crumbs  of  paternal  interest,  though  she 
would  know  better  than  to  let  them  influence  her  to 


162  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


any  little  extravagance,  that  should  heighten  the  weekly 
expenditure,  at  which  he  always  grumbled  so  sadly. 
Only  she  wished  she  had  a  little  money  of  her  own, 
that  she  might  please  him  without  costing  him  any- 
thing. 

She  saw  him  pass  the  area  window.  He  looked 
clown.  Mrs.  Edwardes  was  standing  there  to  catch 
the  waning  light  for  some  little  task,  which  she  was 
performing.     She  looked  up,  and  their  eyes  met. 

Edward  Capel  walked  on  mechanically.  It  did 
not  matter  where  he  went.  He  turned  down  the 
Gray's  Inn  Road,  threading  his  way  among  the  crowds 
of  young  law  clerks,  just  thankfully  released  from  their 
day's,  labors.  He  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  into 
an  old  furniture  shop.  His  eyes  fell  on  a  little  faded 
gilt  clock,  surmounted  by  a  figure,  which  might  be 
symbolic  either  of  Time  or  Death.  The  dealer,  with 
less  view  to  the  fitness  of  things  than  to  possible  profit 
to  be  derived  from  the  divers  Irish  hymeneals  sure  to 
be  celebrated  this  Easter-tide,  had  labeled  it  "  very 
chaste — suitable  for  a  wedding  present."  Mr.  Capel 
walked  on. 

On  and  on,  down  Chancery  Lane,  and  then  he 
turned  eastward,  and  struck  through  Whitefriars 
towards  Blackfriars  Bridge.  He  did  not  notice  where 
he  was  going.  He  was  like  a  deaf  man  who  acci- 
dentally strikes  a  sweet  chord  he  cannot  hear,  for  he 
did  not  even  remember  that  this  was  the  track  of  his 
courting  days,  when  he  had  been  a  pupil  at  a  famous 
architect's  in  Bedford  Square,  and  she  who  was  to  be 


MR.    CAPEL'S    WALK.  1 63 

his  wife,  had  been  a  parlor- boarder  in  a  ladies'  school 
near  the  old  church  at  Camberwell. 

On  and  on  he  went,  across  the  river,  with  the  dim 
evening  clouds  setting  heavy  above  it,  with  just  one 
lingering"  line  of  light  in  the  far  west.  Down  the 
Blackfriars  road,  past  the  coarse  flaunting  cheapness 
of  its  shops,  threading  his  way  among  the  worn-out, 
decrepit  throng  upon  the  pavements,  broken  with 
long  hard  struggle,  and  spoiled  for  earth's  beauty,  but 
not  necessarily,  thank  God,  for  heaven's. 

Edward  Capel  went  on  ;  his  mind  filled  with  his 
own  selfish  thoughts.  He  calculated  what  board  and 
lodging  would  cost  in  some  quiet  country  town.  Liz- 
zie could  not  be  his  housekeeper,  after  she  knew  of 
the  secret  which  Anthony  had  pulled  from  its  untimely 
grave.  Without  any  conscious  explanation,  Mr.  Capel 
felt  that  he  should  suffer  less  from  Hester's  unmiti- 
gated indignation,  than  from  the  startled  horror  of 
Lizzie's  pure  nature.  No,  he  must  go  his  own  way 
alone,  and  they  must  go  theirs.  He  did  not  trouble 
himself  to  consider  the  ways  and  means  of  that  latter 
clause.  Many  girls  had  to  shift  for  themselves,  and 
got  on  well  enough.  No  sense  of  fatherly  duty  had 
ever  come  to  him.  It  is  not  only  orphans  who  are 
cast  straight  on  the  Fatherhood  of  God. 

On  and  on,  till  he  noticed  the  fresh  sweet  odor  of 
budding  trees.  He  was  passing  the  Magdalen  Hos- 
pital. It  was  in  occupation  then,  and  its  old-fashioned 
front,  with  its  clean  windows  and  rows  of  greenery, 
made  a  pleasant  picture  in  that  dreary  road.     Perhaps 


r64  GOLD   AND    DR' 

some  sore  hearts  outside  thought  bitterly  that  it  was 
hard  some  should  find  the  beauty  that  virtue  missed  ; 
while  wiser  souls,  though  as  burdened  and  pressed, 
thanked  God  for  the  trees  of  the  Magdalen  hospital, 
and  sent  up  a  prayerful  sigh  for  those  sad  spirits  that 
could  never  know  another  blooming  time  on  earth. 
Edward  Capel  looked  up  at  the  old  house,  and  the 
budding  trees.  "I  should  think  they  would  pull  it 
clown,  soon,"  thought  he,  "  now  land  grows  so  valuable 
near  the  city." 

Crowds  were  pouring  into  the  Surrey  theatre. 
Mr.  Capel  paused  to  look  at  them.  He  had  been  a 
great  theater-goer  in  his  young  days.  It  now  struck 
him  that  he  might  go  again  more  frequently,  once  he 
was  set  free  from  business.  "But  if  I  live  in  a  little 
country  town,"  he  mused,  "  there  will  be  no  actors 
worth  seeing.  That's  the  worst  of  these  little  country 
towns.  They  are  so  slow.  I  don't  see  why  I 
shouldn't  stay  in  London.  Just  a  little  way  out, 
Highburg  or  Peckham,  or  some  other  suburb.  There 
must  be  plenty  of  people  who  would  be  glad  of  a 
boarder,  at  abated  terms  too,  for  a  permanency.  It 
might  be  a  little  dearer,  though;  but  if  Lizzie  got 
over  the  tiff,  and  came  out  once  in  awhile  to  look 
after  my  things,  I  think  it  would  come  to  much  the 
same  in  the  long  run. 

There  were  two  crowds  in  the  great  clearing  by 
the  obelisk.  One  was  gathered  round  two  men  in  a 
cart  offering  bargains  for  sale.  Mr.  Capel  stopped 
to   listen — "  Genuine  Assam  tea,"  they  cried,  "  only 


MR.    CAPEL'S    WALK.  1 65 

one  and  four-pence  a  pound.  Isn't  there  any  lady 
here  that  drinks  tea  ?  Curious  thing  it  is  that  people 
always  seem  ashamed  to  buy.  Come  along  now,  don't 
be  bashful.  There's  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  if 
you've  got  your  money  ready,  and  you  may  be  sure 
we  won't  deal  with  you  without  it.  What,  nobody 
speaks  !  We're  not  going  to  chaunt  our  goods  as  if  it 
was  a  favor  to  buy,  'em,  but  once  more — one  more 
chance.  Genuine  Assam  tea  at  one  and  four-pence  a 
pound  !  Oh,  I  see  how  it  is,  the  housekeepers  haven't 
come  out  yet, — its  only  the  lodgers.  Haven't  you  an 
article  to  suit  them,  Bill  ?  Yes,  here's  a  knife.  Now, 
it's  not  fancy  goods,  this  isn't,  but  genuine  Sheffield 
blade,  and  sound  ivory  handle.  It's  not  the  sort  of 
article  as  I'd  advise  any  gentleman  to  go  a  playing  at 
suicide  with.     He  might  find  his  self — " 

Mr.  Capel  wandered  on  again,  making  towards 
the  other  group.  This  was  a  smaller  group,  the  inner 
circles  of  which  stood  still  and  quiet  with  bowed 
heads,  heedless  of  the  blasphemous  ribaldry  that 
fringed  its  borders.  It  was  harangued  by  a  man, 
standing  on  the  step  of  the  pillar.  Mr.  Capel  did  not 
need  to  go  close,  for  the  speaker's  voice  rang  out 
sound  and  clear,  in  a  very  different  key,  to  the  besot- 
ted salesman's.  He  was  a  tall  thin  man  with  deep  set 
eyes  and  dark  hair,  waving  in  the  swift  spring  breeze 
that  blew  round  his  uncovered  head.  He  knew  the 
policeman  would  be  soon  upon  him,  and  he  spoke 
eagerly  but  not  impatiently.  Like  one  who  has  many 
seeds  to  sow,  and  doubtful  soil  to  sow   in,  and  would 


l66  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

fain  cast  in  all,  lest  haply  some  might  fall  upon  the 
right. 

"  Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time  ;  behold,  now 
is  the  day  of  salvation  !  " 

"  The  Lord  is  not  slack  concerning  his  promise, 
as  some  men  count  slackness  but  is  long-suffering  to 
us-ward,  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that 
all  should  come  to  repentance." 

"  Cast  away  from  you  all  your  transgressions, 
whereby  ye  have  transgressed,  and  make  you  a  new 
heart  and  a  new  spirit,  for  why  will  ye  die,  O  house  of 
Israel ? " 

"  For  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  him  that 
dieth,  saith  the  Lord  God  ;  wherefore  turn  yourselves, 
and  live  ye." 

Mr.  Capel  walked  on  again.  He  knew  all  about 
it.  He  had  received  a  scriptural  education.  He 
had  dropped  church  attendance  during  the  years  of 
early  manhood  ;  but  now-a-days,  he  often  attended, 
when  the  weather  was  fine,  and  he  was  not  tired  or 
otherwise  disinclined.  He  thought  religion  excellent 
for  women  who  had  nothing  else  to  do.  or  for  poor 
people,  who  would  be  more  likely  to  pick  your  pocket 
without  it.  Mr.  Capel  did  not  feel  himself  among  the 
publicans  and  sinners.  Oh  no  !  who  does  ?  He 
knew  there  was  an  ugly  reality  behind  his  respectable 
exterior,  but  he  believed  himself  quite  as  good  as 
anybody  else,  and  was  satisfied  in  that  belief. 

It  is  too  much  the  fashion  to  set  down  respecta- 
bility as  Pharasaical  in  itself,   whereas  genuine  re- 


MR.    CAPEL'S    WALK.  1 67 

spectability  is  but  a  convenient  colloquialism  for 
Christianity. 

The  distinguishing  mark  of  the  Pharisees  was 
their  shamness  ;  "  whited  sepulchres,  appearing  beau- 
tiful outward,  but  within  full  of  dead  men's  bones,  and 
of  all  uncleanness."  Such  respectability  is  the  easiest 
road  to  damnation. 

As  be  walked  slowly  away,  he  heard  the  crowd 
strike  up  the  hymn 

"  Lc,  He  comes  with  clouds  descending." 

He  knew  the  tune,  and  the  words  too,  for  that  mat- 
ter, and  heedlessly  hummed  them  as  he  went  along, 
soliloquising : 

"  I  could  certainly  get  very  snug  board  and  lodging 
for  about  eighty  pounds  a  year,  which  would  leave  fifty 
for  dress  and  extras — I  might  do  a  little  stroke  of  busi- 
ness too,  whenever  a  profitable  bit  came  across  me  : 

"  Come  to  Judgment, 
Come  to  Judgment,  come  away." 

"I  can't  helpthinking-what  a  blessing  it  is  that  I  put 
everything  into  that  annuity.  It  is  just  the  thing  for  me 
under  the  circumstances;  I  can't  be  expected  to  do  this 
and  to  do  the  other,  when  I  haven't  any  ready  cash,  and 
yet  all  the  time  I  am  safe  myself.  Things  really  do 
seem  to  turn  out  for  the  best,  I  was  in  twenty  minds 
whether  I  would  do  it  or — " 

"  Hullo — mind   yourself — where  are   you    a-going 


l6S  GOLD    AND    DR 

to — there  now,  't wasn't  my  fault  !  I  halloed  as  soon 
as  I  could,  and  so  did  my  fare  j  and  he'll  speak  up  for 
me." 

It  was  at  the  point  where  so  many  roads  meet,  in 
front  of  the  Elephant  and  Castle  coach  station.  Mr. 
Cape!  had  gone  carelessly  across,  humming  as  lie 
went.  A  hansom  cab  had  come  dashing  up  Newing- 
ton  Causeway.  It  was  within  an  inch  of  knocking  him 
down,  indeed  it  was  the  sharp  touch  of  the  shaft,  which 
aroused  him  from  his  reverie,  and  sent  him  blindly 
scrambling  out  of  its  way,  to  fall  right  under  the  wheels 
of  a  heavy  wagon  with  a  sleepy  driver,  bringing  cab- 
bages from  Balham  to  the  Boro  market. 

There  was  a  rush  of  people.  The  first  to  reach 
the  spot  stooped  low  in  the  twilight,  and  when  he  rais- 
ed his  head  the  cab  lantern  shone  on  a  whitened  and 
awed  face. 

••  Stand  back — stand  back" — said  he,  and  the 
two  drivers  paused  in  their  clamorous  self-vindication, 
and  a  little  withered  widow  with  a  great  door-key 
hanging  on  her  forefinger,  wrung  her  bony  hands,  and 
cried  t  "The  pore  gentleman's  dead  !  I  seed  him  com- 
ing across  as  innocent-like  as  possible.  Yes,  mum, 
he's  quite  dead,  and  no  mistake.  The  p'liceman  says 
is  'ead  is  smashed  in." 

••  A  sudden  call,  truly,"  said  the  clear  sad  voice 
of  a  tall  figure  that  towered  over  the  outskirts  of 
the  gathering  crowd. 

It  was  the  preacher  from  the  Obelisk  1 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


ENDS   AND   BEGINNINGS. 


T  was  just  as  it  always  is  under  a  great  shock 

of  affliction  ;  those  who  felt  least,  felt  first, 

and  the  lightest  blow  showed   its  mark  the 

soonest.     That   was    Sibyl's   part.     There 

was  somebody  who  must  come  to  the  front  and  pick 

up  every  duty  that  nobody  else  claimed.     That  was 

Hester's. 

The  poor   mangled  remains    were  brought  home 

after  the  inquest,  and,  for  a  week,  life  went  on  in  the 
shadow  of  drawn  blinds.  A  little  lame  woman  was 
shut  in  the  upper  bedroom,  dressmaking.  Lizzie  and 
Hester  took  their  tasks  from  her,  and  stitched  away 
in  the  twilight-house,  for  though  neither  said  a  word 
to  the  other,  they  both  knew  she  must  not  be  engaged 
one  day  longer  than  was  necessary.  Sibyl  also  spent 
a  good  deal  of  her  time  with  the  workwomen,  who,  not 
seeming  to  have  many  ideas  of  fashion  or  style,  she 
thought  might  be  all  the  better  for  her  suggestions. 
Besides,  the  dressmaker  worked  for  many  of  her  neigh- 
bors, and  after  the  first  day  or  two,  Sibyl  found  that 
8 


170  GOLD    AND    DR< 

she  wanted  more  topics  than  her  own  lacerated  : 
ings,  and  the  imaginary  beatitudes  of  her  departed 
parent.  After  one  fit  of  hysterics  in  Philip  Lewis's 
arms,  she  rather  shunned  him,  with  an  unconscious 
instinct  that  if  he  knew  too  much  of  her  she  might  fail 
in  her  role  of  mourner.  Nevertheless,  his  existence 
was  a  great  comfort.  Not  because  it  afforded  that 
warm  shelter  which  a  true  woman  finds  in  simple  love, 
whether  protecting  or  protected,  but  because  she 
thought  it  was  a  screen  between  her  and  self-depen- 
dence. 

Mrs.  Edwardes  came  to  the  house  once  or  twice 
while  the  dead  lay  there.  Popps  saw  Mr.  Fiske  speak- 
ing to  her  once  in  the  passage.  The  charwoman  was 
told  all  about  the  accident  by  Popps,  and  the  char- 
woman went  through  her  work,  and  listened — mostly 
in  silence. 

"I'm  afraid  the  master  wasn't  a  good  man,"  said 
Popps — "  I  don't  say  he  has  gone  to  hell,  we  never 
likes  to  think  that  of  anybody,  and  we  have  no  right 
neither,  for  we  can't  tell  what  may  be  between  God 
and  theirselves  at  the  very  last  moment.  The  hymn 
says : 

'  While  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn, 
The  vilest  sinner  may  return.' 

I  don't  say  the  master  was  that  neither.  If  he  was,  I 
shouldn't  be  like  to  know  it.  But  I'd  never  have 
thought  of  him  as  a  Christian,  and  if  you  a'n't  the  one, 
why  you  must  be  t'other.     The  master  went  to  church 


ENDS    AND    BEGINNINGS.  171 

as  much  as  many  gentlemen,  but  he  left  Miss  Lizzie 
to  say  the  grace,  and  she  and  Miss  Hetty  reads  a 
chapter  o'nights  in  their  own  room  together.  The 
master  never  nagged  at  me,  but  whenever  he  was  out 
o'temper,  he  seemed  to  forget  I  was  a  human  bein'  as 
had  feelins'  in  my  back  and  legs.  An  I'd  always  a 
notion  that  he  left  places  open,  and  things  lying  about, 
not  because  he  trusted  me,  but  because  he  thought 
one  would  manage  to  come  at  what  one  wanted,  how- 
ever he  might  lock  it  up.  But  he  had  a  jolly  cheerful 
way,  and  he'd  poke  harder  hits  at  Miss  Sibyl  in  his  fun, 
than  ever  Miss  Hester  would  dare  in  her  earnest. 
Maybe  he'd  ha'  been  very  different  if  the  Missis  had 
lived.  It's  a  comfort  we  have  not  got  to  judge  ;  and 
lor,  what  different  judgments  we'd  make !  I  believe 
Miss  Lizzie  would  let  everybody  into  Heaven  but 
herself,  and  then  be  happier  than  any  of  'em,  just 
waitin'  outside,  thinking  what  a  good  time  the  others 
were  having.  But  when  I  look  at  Miss  Hetty's  face, 
as  she  sits  doing  her  black,  I'm  certain  sure  she's 
thinkin'  of  many  things." 

It  was  the  night  before  the  funeral.  The  spring 
weather  was  calmly  fair ;  one  staircase  window  was 
open,  and  the  evening  breeze  crept  into  the  house, 
soft  and  cool.  Everything  was  strangely  still.  Not 
mere  silence,  but  hush,  that  peculiar  hush,  which  is  not 
broken  by  isolated  sounds,  but  absorbs  them  into  itself. 
All  the  mourning  was  made,  and  laid  up  in  the  bed- 
rooms in  gloomy  readiness  for  the  morrow.  Mr  Fiske 
was  out.     Lizzie  and  Dora  were  in  the  drawing-room. 


170  GOLD   AXD    DROSS. 


she  wanted  more  topics  than  her  own  lacerated  feel- 
ings, and  the  imaginary  beatitudes  of  her  departed 
parent.  After  one  fit  of  hysterics  in  Philip  Lewis's 
arms,  she  rather  shunned  him,  with  an  unconscious 
instinct  that  if  he  knew  too  much  of  her  she  might  fail 
in  her  role  of  mourner.  Nevertheless,  his  existence 
was  a  great  comfort.  Xot  because  it  afforded  that 
warm  shelter  which  a  true  woman  finds  in  simple  love, 
whether  protecting  or  protected,  but  because  she 
thought  it  was  a  screen  between  her  and  self-depen- 
dence. 

Mrs.  Edwardes  came  to  the  house  once  or  twice 
while  the  dead  lay  there.  Popps  saw  Mr.  Fiske  speak- 
ing to  her  once  in  the  passage.  The  charwoman  was 
told  all  about  the  accident  by  Popps,  and  the  char- 
woman went  through  her  work,  and  listened — mostly 
in  silence. 

"I'm  afraid  the  master  wasn't  a  good  man,''  said 
Popps — ,;  I  don't  say  he  has  gone  to  hell,  we  never 
likes  to  think  that  of  anvbodv,  and  we  have  no  right 
neither,  for  we  can't  tell  what  may  be  between  God 
and  theirselves  at  the  very  last  moment.  The  hymn 
says : 

'  While  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn, 
The  vilest  sinner  may  return.' 

I  don't  say  the  master  was  that  neither.  If  he  was,  I 
shouldn't  be  like  to  know  it.  But  I'd  never  have 
thought  of  him  as  a  Christian,  and  if  you  a'n't  the  one, 
why  you  must  be  t'other.     The  master  went  to  church 


ENDS    AND    BEGINNINGS.  171 

as  much  as  many  gentlemen,  but  he  left  Miss  Lizzie 
to  say  the  grace,  and  she  and  Miss  Hetty  reads  a 
chapter  o'nights  in  their  own  room  together.  The 
master  never  nagged  at  me,  but  whenever  he  was  out 
o'temper,  he  seemed  to  forget  I  was  a  human  bein'  as 
had  feelins'  in  my  back  and  legs.  An  I'd  always  a 
notion  that  he  left  places  open,  and  things  lying  about, 
not  because  he  trusted  me,  but  because  he  thought 
one  would  manage  to  come  at  what  one  wanted,  how- 
ever he  might  lock  it  up.  But  he  had  a  jolly  cheerful 
way,  and  he'd  poke  harder  hits  at  Miss  Sibyl  in  his  fun, 
than  ever  Miss  Hester  would  dare  in  her  earnest. 
Maybe  he'd  ha'  been  very  different  if  the  Missis  had 
lived.  It's  a  comfort  we  have  not  got  to  judge  ;  and 
lor,  what  different  judgments  we'd  make  !  I  believe 
Miss  Lizzie  would  let  everybody  into  Heaven  but 
herself,  and  then  be  happier  than  any  of  'em,  just 
waitin'  outside,  thinking  what  a  good  time  the  others 
were  having.  But  when  I  look  at  Miss  Hetty's  face, 
as  she  sits  doing  her  black,  I'm  certain  sure  she's 
thinkin'  of  many  things." 

It  was  the  night  before  the  funeral.  The  spring 
weather  was  calmly  fair ;  one  staircase  window  was 
open,  and  the  evening  breeze  crept  into  the  house, 
soft  and  cool.  Everything  was  strangely  still.  Not 
mere  silence,  but  hush,  that  peculiar  hush,  which  is  not 
broken  by  isolated  sounds,  but  absorbs  them  into  itself. 
All  the  mourning  was  made,  and  laid  up  in  the  bed- 
rooms in  gloomy  readiness  for  the  morrow.  Mr  Fiske 
was  out.     Lizzie  and  Dora  were  in  the  drawing-room. 


174  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

always  in  a  far-off  heaven  or  hell  ?  May  there  not  be 
a  sweet  secret  in  the  meek  resignation  with  which  the 
most  tender  love  often  bears  the  fleshly  absence  of 
the  holiest  departed  ?  God  sends  our  mortal  bless- 
ings by  dear  human  hands, — who  shall  say  how  he 
heals  and  comforts  our  souls  ?  Are  there  not  "  minis- 
tering spirits  ? "  Is  it  unlike  what  we  know  of  God's 
way  to  suppose  that  earthly  loves  and  labors  will  rise 
up  glorified,  with  the  glorified  spirits  ?  There  is 
another  side  to  the  picture.  The  world  has  outgrown 
the  mediaeval  idea  of  the  torments  of  the  wicked.  It 
has  risen  on  the  sign  to  the  thing  signified.  It  under- 
stands that  the  worm  and  the  fire  but  typify  the 
miserable  completion  of  hopeless  iniquity,  even  as  the 
great  white  throne  and  the  sea  of  glass  are  but  faint, 
faint  symbols  of  the  peace  and  rest  of  the  everlasting 
kingdom.  What  of  the  sinner  doomed  to  read  his 
career  by  the  fierce  light  of  an  awakened  conscience, 
finding  God's  story  of  what  might  have  been,  beneath 
the  black  blots  of  the  Devil's  facts  ?  What  if  Edward 
Capel  was  watching  by  the  decaying  ashes  of  that  self 
which  he  had  loved  better  than  his  own  undying  soul  ? 
What  if  he  saw  the  kiss  upon  the  coffin  ;  and,  spirit 
reading  spirit,  knew  the  unspoken  memories  of  thirty- 
three  years  before  ?  What  if  he  heard  that  cry  for 
pardon  ? — and  was  now  too  much  fiend,  even  to  wish 
that  he  had  a  voice  to  answer,  "  The  first  guilt  lay 
with  me — the  first  forgiveness  must  be  yours  !  " 

In  this  common-place  world,  there,  is  not  much 
time  for  such  supreme  anguish   as  was   throbbing   in 


ENDS    AND    BEGINNINGS.  175 


that  shaded  room.  There  was  some  slight  sound  in 
the  house  below,  and  Mrs.  Edwardes  started  to  the 
door  like  an  alarmed*  thief.  There  was  a  step  in  the 
hall ;  somebody  was  coming  up  stairs.  She  hurried 
down. 

On  the  drawing-room  flight  she  met  Philip  Lewis. 
Instead  of  walking  close  to  the  balustrade  or  the  wall, 
as  she  usually  did,  like  one  accustomed  to  step  aside, 
she  was  in  the  middle  of  the  stair.  Everybody  knows 
how  the  reproduction  of  some  little  outward  circum- 
stance will  help  to  reproduce  the  by-gone  mood  that 
was  associated  with  it.  And  may  not  the  stirring  of 
an  old  feeling  bring  back  the  habits  of  its  first  season  ? 

Philip  Lewis  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass.  He 
guessed  that  she  was  the  charwoman,  but  he  had 
never  seen  her  since  the  night  of  his  arrival  in  Lon- 
don, when  she  spread  the  supper.  The  staid  habits 
of  his  decorous  nature  prevented  him,  though  an  in- 
mate, from  making  himself  so  free  of  the  house,  as 
that  casual  visitor,  Mr.  Fiske.  He  went  up,  as  she 
passed  on  ;  but  presently  stopped,  and  watched  her 
over  the  banister. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  thought  he  to  himself;  "  I  do  be- 
lieve the  familiarity  of  Mrs.  Capel's  portrait  was  some 
sort  of  likeness  to  this  deplorable  looking  wretch. 
What  a  good  thing  it  is  I  did  not  say  so  !  Sibyl 
would  have  been  angry.  It  is  odd  what  a  likeness 
may  be  in  a  most  awful  caricature."  And  then  he 
went  to  his  own  room,  and  got  out  a  marking-ink 
bottle  and  a  clean  quill,  and  wrote  his  own  name  in 


176  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

full  upon  some  black-bordered  handkerchiefs  that  he 
had  just  bought  For  Philip  Lewis  was  a  very  do- 
mestic and  neat  young  man. 

Mrs.  Edwardes  went  down  to  the  kitchen  for 
her  bonnet  and  shawl.  She  found  Tom  Moxon  there  ; 
he  had  only  just  come  in,  and  it  was  his  first  visit 
since  the  episode  of  Popps'  smart  bonnet.  Would  he 
have  arrived  now,  but  for  the  affliction  that  had  be- 
fallen the  household  ?  Popps  was  doubtful — but  nev- 
ertheless very  glad  to  see  him.  Mrs.  Edwardes  kindly 
left  them  to  themselves. 

"  It's  a  sad  thing  for  the  young  ladies,"  said  Tom  ; 
being  not  yet  off  topics  of  general  interest.  "  I  sup- 
pose they  will  not  live  on  here.  They'd  like  to  keep 
you  though,  if  they  can  anyways,  I  reckon,  Bessie." 

"  An'  I'd  like  to  stay,  anyhow,"  she  said.  "I'm 
not  the  sort  to  rub  on  well  with  most  misses,  specially 
after  being  used  to  Miss  Lizzie.  I'd  take  less  wages, 
I  would,  sooner  than  leave  'em.  It  would  pay  better 
in  the  long  run  than  bein'  always  out." 

"  It  would  pay  better  as  things  stand,"  he  an- 
swered, thoughtfully.  "  'Tisn't  as  if  it  was  for  all  your 
life;  a  pound  or  two  less  for  one  year  or  so  is  noth- 
ing compared  with  comfort.  It  won't  be  longer  than 
that,  before  we'll  marry,  Bessie.  I'm  doing  famously  ; 
extra  money  nearly  every  week.  There's  no  need 
that  you  should  go  gadding  into  new  places,  putting 
up  with  all  sorts  of  miseries,  and  forgetting  all  about 
me,  into  the  bargain." 

"  I  didn't  know  but  you'd  be   glad  if  I  did,"  said 


ENDS    AND    BEGINNINGS.  1 77 

Popps,  able  to  name  her  pain,  as  it  leaped  away  from 
her  heart. 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !  "  he  responded,  with  a  kiss 
which  made  the  laughing  contempt  into  the  height  of 
gallantry.  "  Or  if  you  did,  it  was  because  you  wanted 
to  think  so." 

"  I  shall  be  in  black  now,  so  I  shan't  be  too  smart 
for  you,"  said  Popps  demurely. 

"Oh,  bother  that!"  cried  Tom.  "If  you  like 
I'll  take  you  out  for  a  holiday,  Bessie,  and  you  shall 
carry  that  bonnet  in  a  bag,  and  when  we're  safe  away, 
where  the  family  a'nt  likely  to  see  us,  you  shall  put  it 
on,  just  to  show  you  how  little  I  care  about  such  rub- 
bish ! " 

"  The  bonnet's  all  gone,"  said  Popps  ;  "  leastways 
the  trimmings  is.  Miss  Hetty  did  it  over  again  for 
me,  as  neat  and  nice  as  her  own." 

"  You  dear  little  woman  !  "  ejaculated  the  lover. 

But  Popps  looked  up  at  him  with  something  moist 
in  her  honest  blue  eyes.  "  I  shall  always  be  doin' 
something  to  upset  you,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand things  like  other  girls  do.  Now  there's  Lucy 
Smith  that  teaches  in  the  National  school,  she'd  never 
put  you  out  with  being  common-looking  in  her  dress, 
Tom  ? " 

"  And  don't  I  want  a  wife  who  is  something  more 
than  bonnet  and  examination-papers  ?  "  cried,  Tom  in 
disgust. 

"  But  there's  plenty  others  beside  Lucy  that's  the 
same,"  said  Popps,  dubiously. 
8* 


178  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


"  Well,  I  shall  never  find  out  whether  there  are  or 
not,"  he  returned,  heartily.  "  For  I  know  that  you 
are  nearer  all  I  want  than  any  other  woman  in  the 
world,  Bessie.  And  now,  good-bye  little  woman  ;  I'm 
glaj  I've  made  you  laugh  again  !  " 

But  when  he  was  gone,  the  smile  slowly  died  away. 
"  Nearer  all  I  want,  he  said,"  she  mused  to  herself. 
Popps  was  only  a  simple-hearted  girl,  and  she  could 
not  clothe  in  words  the  shadow  that  was  floating  in 
her  mind.  Only,  alas  !  where  a  pain  has  once  been 
planted,  the  soul  is  always  ready  for  a  fresh  crop. 

"  I  was  a  brute  the  other  day,"  thought  Tom,  as 
he  went  off  whistling.  "  But  I've  made  it  all  right 
now,  bless  her  forgiving  little  heart ! " 


CHAPTER  XV. 


DIVERGING    PATHS. 


T  was  over.  The  blinds  were  raised.  Life 
move's  on  again.  But  in  its  old  track — 
Nevermore. 
The  Capels  must  leave  Queen's-Road. 
They  had  no  relation  nearer  than  a  cousin  of  their 
father's,  whom  they  had  only  seen  about  six  times. 
But  he  and  Philip  Lewis,  and  the  family  solicitor 
settled  matters  between  them.  The  business  was 
indeed  small,  only  some  peculiarities  of  the  last  part 
of  the  connection  made  it  just  too  much  for  Philip, 
single-handed.  He  would  require  to  find  a  partner 
and  it  was  hoped  that  the  consideration  for  such 
partnership  and  the  sale  of  some  of  the  furniture 
would  cover  the  out-standing  debts  and  all  those 
expenses  which  gather  around  the  downfall  of  anything 
— the  sad  cost  of  destruction — like  the  woodman's 
charge  for  felling  an  old  oak. 

Hester  invested  privately  in  Daily  Telegraphs — 
and  read  the  advertisements  first.  Dora  shut  herself 
up  in  her  bedroom  for  hours  together,  the  only  result 


I  So  GOLD  AND    DROSS. 


being  an  almost  daily  book-packet  from  the  postman, 
which  arrival  or  rather  return,  Hester  and  she  spoke 
no  word  about  to  each  other  and  generally  managed 
to  keep  secret  from  the  rest.  Future  responsibilities 
were  not  yet  mentioned.     All  was  dark  and  indefinite. 

About  three  weeks  after  the  funeral,  there  came  a 
purchaser  for  the  business.  The  negotiation  went  on 
for  some  days.  Hester  almost  prayed  for  its  conclu 
sion.  She  wanted  certainty.  It  was  so  hard  to 
move  towards  a  novel  way  of  life,  amid  old  customs 
and  associations.  Well,  but  it  was  settled  at  last. 
The  incoming  partner  would  take  the  house  too,  and 
most  of  the  heavy  furniture,  but  he  did  not  wish  to 
move  in,  just  yet.  They  could  remain  till  Michael- 
mas. 

"  I  wonder  what  they  will  do,  poor  girls,"  said 
Sibyl,  languidly  ;  leaning  on  Philip  Lewis'  arm,  as 
they  walked  together  under  the  lilacs  that  were  now 
a-bloom  in  all  "  the  squares."  But  the  remark  was 
put  forth  to  sound  her  own  future,  and  not  her  sisters'. 

"  I  don't  know, — but  there  are  many  things," 
responded  the  young  man  ;  "  only  dear,  you  can't 
think  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  me  that  you  will  be 
amply  provided  for  by  a  very  slight  exertion  of  your 
splendid  accomplishment  which  must  be  an  enjoyment 
in  itself.     It  is  as  good  as  a  fortune,  Sibyl." 

Passionate  tears  rushed  to  Sibyl's  eyes.  She  had 
dared  to  foster  another  hope.  "  I  hate  teaching," 
she  said,  pettishly. 

Philip's   understanding  caught  the  pain,  but  not 


DIVERGING    PATHS.  l8l 

the  passion.  He  stroked  the  elaborately  gloved  hand 
on  his  arm.  "  And  I  am  ever  so  sorry  you  should 
have  to  do  it,"  he  said.  "If  this  had  happened 
only  about  a  year  later,  or  if" — he  was  going  to  add, 
if  even  his  slender  income  had  no  home-claims  upon 
it — but  his  mother  had  had  a  severe  illness,  and  the 
expenses  had  overflowed  the  boundaries  of  her  annuity, 
and  similar  possibilities  lay  always  at  hand. 

"  I  wish  you  were  rich,"  she  cried. 

There  was  a  pang,  that  Philip  put  away  at  once. 
Grave  and  forgiving  amid  all  his  commonplace.  "  So 
do  I,"  he  said,  tenderly.  "  If  only  for  your  sake,  dar- 
ling." 

"  And  you  will  go  on  living  in  the  house  ? "  she 
asked,  presently. 

"  I  think  it  is  to  be  so  arranged,"  he  said. 

"-There  will  be  no  difference  to  you,"  she  ob- 
served, resentfully. 

"  Don't  you  think  so  ? "  he  said,  with  the  silent  pang 
twinging  again  :  "  You  will  not  be  there." 

"But  you  will  be  able  to  come  and  see  me  when- 
ever you  like,"  she  retorted  ;  "  though  to  be  sure,  by 
the  evening,  I  shall  be  too  tired  to  be  fit  for  anything." 

"I  hope  not,"  he  remonstrated.  "Why,  Sibyl,  it 
won't  be  for  long.  It's  almost  time  that  you  should 
begin  to  knit  and  crotchet  the  trimmings  of  the — what 
do  they  call  it — the  trousseau." 

"  I  shall  not  do  a  stitch  of  it  myself,"  said  Sibyl, 
shortly.  "  I  hate  that  sort  of  thing — and  you  can  buy 
it  cheap  enough." 


182  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


Philip  had  his  own  style  of  sentiment.  He 
thought  a  woman  might  find  it  very  sweet  to  sit 
quietly,  sewing  sweet  hopes  and  dreams  into  tangible 
shapes.  He  had  often  thought  so.  on  those  occa- 
sions when  his  mother  had  let  her  boys  peep  into  her 
stores,  and  finger  the  soft  old  embroideries  and  laces, 
whereon  she  dropped  a  tear  or  two  ;  plain,  reserved, 
practical  woman  though  she  was.  But  as  Sibyl  did 
not  have  those  fancies,  they  must  surely  be  old-fash- 
ioned or  vulgar,  for  Philip's  was  that  calm  and  simple 
love  which  always  rests  in  the  assurance  that  the 
beloved  must  be  right. 

Thev  walked  on  in  silence.  In  his  heart  was  a 
yearning  of  steadfast  and  patient  devotion  which  it 
was  not  skilled  to  utter.  It  is  no  use  to  ask  what  he 
saw  in  her  to  call  it  out.  He  had  clothed  his  ideal 
of  woman  with  Sibyl's  beautiful  form.  He  believed 
in  her— and  that  is  the  whole  secret  of  all  love. 
And  before  you  despise  him  for  his  blindness,  pause 
and  ask  yourself  is  there  anybody  who  thinks  you  are 
his  best  blessing?  Do  you  deserve  that  ?  Have  you 
not  often,  with  half-remorseful  candor  told  him  that 
it  was  all  a  delusion  ?  Have  you  not  playfully  held 
up  your  faults  that  you  might  see  them  transformed  in 
the  beautifying  mirror  of  affection  ?  If  you  are  but 
wise  enough  to  know  the  secrets  of  your  own  nature, 
you  will  thank  God  that  the  kind  eyes  which  see  it 
the  nearest,  look  through  a  softening  mist.  Nobody 
deserves  love,  and  it  falls  like  God's  unmerited  boun- 
ties of  sunshine  and  rain   on   the  just  and  on  the  un- 


DIVERGING   PATHS.  1 83 


just.  Only,  like  them  again,  it  cannot  fertilize  the 
stony  ground  while  the  better  soil  will  justify  the 
fostering  providence.  Let  the  ideals  of  us,  in  the 
hearts  that  love  us,  be  prophetic  of  what  we  shall 
become  ! 

And  what  was  in  Sibyl's  heart  ?     Nothing  at  all. 
But  in  her  mind  there  was  a  vision  of  flounced  petti- 
coats  and   sealskin   jackets   floating  away   from  her 
grasp,  to  make  room  for  a  daily  teacher's  waterproof 
and  umbrella.     What  was    the  use  of  being  pretty? 
She  could  not  have  met  a  harder  fate,  if  she  had  been 
as  plain  as  a  deal-board.     And  it  might  have  been  so 
different.     There  was  a  definite  "  might  have  been," 
in   her   thoughts.     Her  castles  in  the  air,  had  been 
built  of  too  substantial  material  to   vanish  into  that 
shadowy  past  which  is  too  subtle  to  be  remembered. 
She  knew  of  definite  somebody  whose  allowance  could 
not  be  less  than  a  thousand  a  year,  and  whose  pros- 
pective fortune  must  be  at  least  six  times  as  much.    She 
knew  just  the  neighborhood,  and  just  the  house  where 
people  with  such  an  income  could  live.     If  she  only 
had    it,  she    knew  what  style  of  carriage  she  would 
have,  and  what  modiste  she  would  employ.     And  walk 
ing  by  Philip's  side,  her  light  head  tossed  a  little  with 
the  vain  consciousness  that  this  somebody  had    not 
been  at  all  oblivious  of  the  poor  architect's  daughter.  * 
Between    them,  there    were  many  gaps  of  the  social 
chain.     He  had  only  condescended  "to  look  in"  at 
the  grandest  party   she  had  ever  attended,  where  she 
had  been  invited  at  the  last  moment  to  fill  a  gap  made 


184  GOI.H    AND    DROSS. 


by  some  unexpected  excuses.     She  remembered  it  ail 
well  enough.     How  negligent  she  found  all  the  ser- 
vants  !     How  condescending  the  lady  of  the  house, 
how  coldly  dignified  the  guests  !     But  never  mind  that. 
"  Somebody,'1  had  stayed  till  the  very  end  of  the  en- 
tertainment, pointing  the    compliment   by   carelessly 
observing  that  he  was  due  at  a  countess'  ball — but 
that  it  didn't  matter.     She  had  seen  him  afterwards, 
and  in  the  half-expressed  and  wholly  clandestine  ad- 
miration of  this  man  with  a  title  and  landed  property 
before  him,  there  had  been  a  strange  sweet  zest,  which 
she  did  not  find  in  all  the  honest  courtship  of  the  plain 
lover,  with    his     straightforward     offer   of    marriage. 
"  Somebody"  was  away  in  the  west  of  England  now, 
with  his   regiment.     "  He  must  not  stay  where  incli- 
nation would  keep  him,  but  must  go  where  duty  called 
him" — he  had   said.     Philip  had  never  made  such  a 
pretty  speech,  he  would  have  thought  it  quite  beside 
the  mark,  and  would  have  followed  duty  humbly  as  a 
matter  of  course.     If  she  had  only  been  quite  sure  that 
somebody   meant  something  !     But  how  was  one  to 
know  ? — And  in  the  interval,  poor  Philip  had  made  his 
"  bothering"  proposal !     But  while   she  held  the  tame 
bird  in  one  hand,  she  stretched  out  the  other,  after  the 
wild  one  in  the  bush.     She  did  not  know  this  hard 
truth  of  herseif.     She  was  not  honest  enough  to  sus- 
pect   herself  of  dishonesty.     Only  she   wished — and 
wished — and  wished.     And   a  wish,  may  be  a  prayer 
to    God  or   Satan.     And    Satan    answers — Oh,   most 
readily  !     We  need  only  sigh  to  him  for  a  crumb  of 


DIVERGING    PATHS.  185 

bread,  and  he  will  give  us  beautiful  fruit — so  tempt- 
ing— till  we  bite  it,  and  then  ! — 

It  was  nine  o'clock  before  they  reached  home,  the 
last  post  was  going  round  to  the  houses.  Hester  had 
just  emptied  their  letter-box  as  they  came  up,  and 
she  opened  the  door  and  almost  before  she  touched 
the  knocker : 

"  Anything  for  me  ?  "  asked  Sybil,  sweeping  in. 
"  Yes,  one,"  Hester  replied,  handing  it  to  her. 
Sybil  took  it  and  looked  at  it  earnestly.  She  almost 
fancied — but  feared  to  put  her  fancy  into  shape,  lest 
it  should  not  be  true.  So  she  held  the  letter  aside, 
and  asked  again.  "  Anything  for  anybody  else  ? " 
Having  no  duties  in  her  own  life,  Sybil  was  always  at 
leisure  to  peep  into  other  people's  ;  about  as  kindly 
and  helpful  as  your  next  door  neighbor's  surveillance 
on  a  washing  day. 

"  Something   for    Dora,"   Hester   answered,   and 
then  the  little  group  separated. 

It  was  at  least  half  an  hour  before  Sibyl  rejoined 
Philip  in  the  drawing-room,  she  did  not  speak  as  she 
came  in,  nor  did  she  take  her  usual  seat  beside  him 
on  the  sofa,  but  went  straight  to  the  piano  and  began 
to  play.  She  seemed  a  little  flushed,  and  looked  so 
grave  and  pre-occupied  that  Philip  feared  lest  she 
was  in  some  way  troubled.  That  perhaps  she  had 
already  entered  on  some  secret  negotiations  for  in- 
dependence. Women  were  always  braver  and  nobler 
than  men's  thoughts.  So  presently  he  crossed  over 
to  the  chair  which  faced  her  as  she  played,  and  then 


l86  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

ventured  to  interrupt  the  melody  with   the  whispered 
inquiry,  "  Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  No;  what  did  you  think  ? "  she  answered,  quickly. 

"  I  fancied  there  might  be  something  in  that  letter," 
he  said,  meekly ;  then  resolutely  determined  to  save 
her  from  the  suffering  of  unshared  anxieties,  he  pre- 
sumed to  inquire  who  it  was  from. 

"  Only  a  note  from  an  acquaintance,"  she  answered, 
rather  pettishly. 

But  Philip  persisted  in  his  private  brain  of  thought. 
"  Don't  you  trouble  yourself  about  the  music-lessons," 
he  observed,  confidentially.  •'  Just  write  out  a  grand 
advertisement ;  in  this  world,  most  people  accept  you 
at  your  own  estimation,  and  I  will  take  it  to  the 
Times'  Office,  and  you  must  promise  to  let  me  see  the 
answers  which  you  get,  that  we  may  judge  what  are 
worth  your  attention.  But  don't  you  trouble  yourself, 
there's  a  darling  !  " 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  worry  me,"  she  replied. 
"  We  are  not  going  out  of  this  house  to-morrow,  nor 
the  next  day,  either." 

"It  is  because  she  thinks  these  things  are  a 
trouble  to  me,"  thought  Philip,  silenced,  while  all  the 
time,  it's  a  pleasure  to  me  to  hope  to  serve  her  in  such 
small  ways  as  I  can. 

Hester  had  taken  up  to  Dora's  room,  a  letter  and 
a  packet.  She  had  put  them  into  her  hand  and  retired 
without  a  word.  But  she  did  not  go  further  than  her 
own  chamber.  Night  after  night  she  waited  there. 
If  there  were  good  news,   Dora  would  come  and  tell 


DIVERGING    PATHS.  187 

her.  If  not,  she  presently  went  down,  and  got  the 
supper.  Expectation  was  no  longer  breathless.  Hope 
had  quieted  down  into  patience. 

But  hark !  Dora  had  never  paced  her  room  like 
this  before.  And  now  her  hand  was  upon  the  door. 
Hester  flew  to  her's. 

"  It  is  taken  at  last,"  she  cried  ;  "  they've  sent  me 
the  proof  and  a  post-office-order.     Come  and  look  !  " 

Hester  had  won  the  sacred  confidence  of  young 
ambition  and  aspiration.  The  strong  reserve  of  her 
silent  sympathy  had  proved  itself  to  be  trusted.  Beau- 
tiful curves  were  rounding  off  her  straight  line  of  duty. 
She  did  not  notice  that  then.  The  beginner  is  rarely 
conscious  of  his  first  advance.  But  nevertheless  she 
took  the  blessedness  of  it  to  her  heart  and  shut  it  in 
there  as  we  may  fold  away  a  dried  flower,  gathered  on 
a  happy  day.  It  will  be  pleasant  to  look  at  in  wintry 
weather. 

"  Let  me  read  the  poem,"  she  said ;  may  I  read  it 
aloud,  Dora  ? " 

"If  you  like,"  she  said,  smiling.     And  she  read. 

DIVERGING  PATHS. 

"  I  can't  go  with  you  farther,  Willie, 
For  an  old  man  soon  grows  weary 
Though  your  sunlit  path  looks  tempting 
And  my  backward  one  but  dreary. 
"We  don't  know  what  awaits  you  at  the  other  side  the  wave 
But  don't  forget  your  English  home,  and  your  mother's  English 
grave. 


1 88  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


"God  blesses  honest  labor,  Willie, 
He  has  blessed  my  work  to  me  : 

Though  the  cottage  roof  is  leaky, 
And  my  best  clothes  what  you  see. 
You  are  almost  smiling,  Willie,  an'  I  judge  you  think  it  strange 
If  your  father  had  his  life  again,  he  would  not  wish  a  change. 

"  When  I  wed  your  mother,  Willie, 
Ah,  how  fast  the  seasons  roll  ! 
It  was  summer  on  the  meadow, 
And  'twas  summer  in  my  soul, 
But  God  for  wealth  gave  need,  and  for  pleasure  He  gave  woe, 
But  he  gave  us  also,  Willie,  hearts  that  answered,  "  Better  so." 

"  God  knows  I  nearly  failed,  Willie, 
For  we  are  not  always  strong; 
But  your  mother  only  kissed  me 

When  I  said  that  things  went  wrong 
Just  because  God  spared  her.     One  by  one  her  babes  he  reft, 
You  remember  when  she  died,  Willie,  only  you  and  I  were  left. 

"  If  you  grow  a  rich  man,  Willie, 
Never  scorn  your  early  home, 
And  you  need  not  miss  your  mother 
Though  to  farthest  land  you  roam. 
You're  the  only  one,  my  Willie,  little  like  her  grave  to  share, 
But  her  soul  is  safe  in  Heaven  and  Heaven  is  everywhere. 

"  God  forbid  I  daunt  you,  Willie, 

When  He  gives  us  strength  and  health 
Sure  He  ne'er  forbids  us  use  them 
To  gain  honest  place  and  wealth. 
An'  He  gives  bright  hope  at  starting,  only  when  it  comes  to  pale, 
Pray  that  your  heart  receive  instead  the  faith  which  does  not  fail. 


DIVERGING    PATHS.  1S9 

"  Now,  God  bless  an'  guide  you,  Willie, 
I'm  tired  out — you  see  I'm  old, 
And  I'll  go  home  the  churchyard  way, 
It's  nearest — though  it's  cold 
I'm  thinking,  lad,  in  little  while  your  mother's  grave  I'll  share, 
An'  then  you'll  have  us  both  again  for  Heaven  is  everywhere." 

"  Why,  Dora,"  cried  Hester  ;  "  of  course  that  is  the 
best  thing  you  have  ever  written !  It's  not  a  fancy,  it's 
a  fact !  you  are  right  in  saying  everybody  knows,  and 
feels  all  that.  But  then  that's  just  the  beauty  of  it. 
We  shall  all  be  proud  of  you,  Dora,  I  am  ever  so  proud 
of  you,  already." 

And  then  she  left  her.  Dora  did  not  see  anybody 
else  that  night.     She  heard  Sibyl  come  to  her  room, 


but  she  did  not  go  to  tell  her  glad  secrets  to  her.  We 
want  to  share  everything  with  somebody,  but  so  long 
as  we  have  one  true  heart  who  knows  of  our  treasures, 
we  are  chary  lest  any  rougher  hand  should  burst  away 
their  bloom. 

Sometimes  "Sibyl's,"  may  remain  confident  to  the 
end  ;  but  only  for  lack  of  "  Hester's."  Work  general- 
ly finds  its  way  to  the  fittest  workman,  if  he  is  only  to 
be  had. 

Next  morning  Dora  rose  with  the  first  sunbeam. 
She  was  glad  to  rise  and  open  the  window.  There 
had  been  a  shower  at  midnight,  and  the  quiet  street 
and  the  trees  beyond,  looked  refreshed  and  cool. 
There  is  a  strange  and  solemn  charm  in  the  dawn  over 
London.  Dora  felt  the  spell.  The  girl's  soul  was 
drawn  out  of  herself,  and  nearer  to  God  than  it  had 


I90  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

ever  been  before.  Somehow,  she  never  knew  how 
there  arose  before  her  mind,  a  vision  of  a  Divine 
Youth  sadly  asking  his  grieved  parents,  "  Wist  ye 
not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business?"  And 
it  came  to  her  like  a  revelation — all  the  throbbing  as- 
pirations, which  seemed  only  beating  themselves  to 
death  against  the  bars  of  a  rebellious  human  nature; 
and  all  the  weary  marchings  towards  lofty  virtue  through 
steep  and  narrow  paths  that  always  ended  in  some 
"  No  Thoroughfare"  of  innate  depravity,  were  sud- 
denly lifted  into  a  higher  region  of  light  and  liberty, 
by  that  glory  of  the  Godhead,  shining  through  a  veil 
of  flesh,  showing  what  manhood  might  have  been,  and 
atoning  for  what  manhood  could  never  be — and  the 
young  poet  in  the  glory  of  her  new-born  hopes,  bowed 
her  head  and  prayed  :  "  Father,  for  Thy  work — not 
mine  own — help  and  strengthen  me  !  " 

And  the  dawn  deepened  into  crimson  daylight 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY    IN    180O. 


IBYL'S  advertisment  appeared  in  the  Times 
at  last.  But  her  first  pupils  were  obtained 
by  Philip's  tact.  Lunching  with  a  gentleman 
for  whom  he  was  arranging  some  out-houses, 
he  overheard  that  the  family  required  a  Music  Mis- 
tress, and  promptly  spoke  a  good  word  for  his  late 
partner's  daughter.  Sibyl  did  not  accept  the  appoint- 
ment at  all  enthusiastically,  she  asked  every  question 
that  was  calculated  to  develop  its  disadvantages  until 
Philip  felt  almost  ashamed  of  himself  for  suggesting 
it,  and  she  quietly  kept  to  herself  what  she  considered 
a  point  so  favorable  as  to  outweigh  everything  else — 
that  the  family  lived  on  the  south  side  of  Hyde  Park, 
and  that  her  way  to  and  fro,  would  lie  through  her 
beloved  West  End.  She  finally  agreed  to  undertake 
the  duty  with  the  satirical  remark,  "  that  chivalry  had 
phase  peculiar  to  every  age,  and  that  the  last  was 
to  find  work  for  the  lady-love." 

But  there  was  no  such  modern  chivalry  ;  for  Hester, 


IQ2  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

Indirectly  she  raised  the  subject  of  her  future  once  or 
twice  in  conversation  with  her  future  brother-in-law, 
but  afterwards  regretted  doing  so.  According  to  his 
views,  there  was  no  occupation  for  well-bred  women 
but  teaching — surely  every  woman  could  teach  some- 
thing, from  graceful  arts  like  his  Sibyl's,  to  the  primer 
and  pot  hooks  of  the  nursery  governess.  There  can  be 
nothing  more  womanly  than  teaching,  he  declared. 
Every  true  woman  has  maternal  instincts  and  it 
gratifies  them.  It  is  the  noblest  work  in  the  world 
and  worthy  of  woman.  Women  need  never  want 
any  other  work  while  they  have  that." 

"  I  suppose  the  ministry  is  the  highest  calling  for 
men,"  Hester  murmured,  rebelliously.  "  But  I  doubt 
whether  the  min'stry  would  gain  as  much  as  other 
walks  of  life  would  lose,  if  all  men  were  forced  to  be 
ministers  !  " 

"Women  are  meant  to  be  wives  and  mothers," 
Philip  went  on.  "  They  are  meant  for  the  duties  of 
the  hearth,  and  the  shelter  of  home."' 

"  Who  means  them  ?  "  interrupted  Hester,  quietly. 

"  God  himself,"  said  Philip,  with  solemn  certainty. 

"  Then  you  mean  that  God  does  not  have  His 
own  way  in  the  world,"  Hester  retorted  ;  "  For  there 
are  women  who  would  have  neither  hearths  nor  homes 
unless  they  earned  them  for  themselves,  out  in  the 
world." 

'"Women  are  made  for  dependence."  Philip 
proceeded,  never  meeting  her  retorts  full  in  the  face, 
but  travelling  on  safely  beside  them  ;  "  They  are  made 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY    IN    iSoO.  193 

'to  lean  on  man.  Their  strength  is  their  weakness. 
Woman's  rights  indeed  !  a  woman's  right  is  her  right 
to  the  love  and  cherishing  of  one  man \  give  her  that 
and  her  whole  nature  is  satisfied  and  she  is  happy.'' 

Alas !  when  our  best  weapons  are  so  sharp  that 
we  dare  not  use  them  lest  they  wound  too  deeply  ! 
Hester  longed  to  say,  if  this  were  so,  she  wondered 
Sibyl  was  not  better  tempered  and  more  restful.  But 
she  kept  silence  and  while  she  paused,  Philip  resumed 
his  eloquence. 

';  What  does  the   good   old-fashioned   poet   say  ? 
A  woman's  noblest  station  is  retreat. 
She  is  made  for  it.   Is  her  tender  and  sensitive  nature  to 
be  torn  and  worn  on  on  the  rough  v.  heel  of  the  world  ? " 

"  A  woman  will  hardly  find  anything  in  the  world 
worse  than  a  bad  husband,  Mr.  Lewis,'"  said  Anthony 
Fiske,  reflectively.  Mr.  Fiske  had  left  the  house  a 
few  days  after  Mr.  Capel's  funeral,  but  he  had  taken 
lodgings  close  at  hand  and  was  a  constant  visitor. 

••  And  I  can't  see  that  '  a  woman's  noblest  station 
is  starvation  in  a  garret ! '  cried  Hester  ;  "  no,  nor 
yet  living  upon  other  people  who  don't  find  her  exist- 
ence to  be  either  a  necessity  or  a  luxury." 

"  Of  course  you  think  women's  intellect  is  the 
same  as  men's ; "  Philip  resumed,  with  supreme  satire  ; 
"  You  would  like  them  to  be  physicians  and  lawyers 
and  merchants,  I  suppose." 

"  It  does  not  matter  what  I  should  like,'"  said  Hes- 
ter.    "  They  can't  be  such  ;  one  or  two  very  clever 
women  may  be  just  able  enough  to  kill  themselves  in 
9 


194  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

striving  to  do  what  ordinary  men  do,  easily.  But  I 
do  say  that  men  have  no  right  to  dictate  to  women 
what  they  shall  be  or  do." 

"  A  woman's  strength  is  in  her  heart,"  Philip  pur- 
sued, grandly.  "  Men  do  not  want  clever  women  to 
contradict  and  argue  with  them  ;  they  want  women  to 
love  them." 

"  Have  men  so  low  an  estimate  of  themselves,  that 
they  think  they  can  only  win  the  affection  of  fools  ?  " 
asked  Hester,  scornfully. 

"  If  I  wanted  a  wife  to  love  me,"  said  Anthony 
Fiske  ;  "  I'd  marry  as  wise  a  woman  as  I  could  find. 
But  then,  of  course  she  wouldn't  have  me.  That's 
where  it  is.  There  are  some  women  who  could  be  the 
salvation  of  some  men.  But  they  are  the  very  ones 
who  won't  have  anything  to  say  to  the  men  that  want 
saving.  I  know  this  is  outside  the  discussion,  but  I 
couldn't  help  saying  it,  because  I've  so  often  turned 
it  over  in  my  mind." 

"A  woman  is  just  a  woman,"  said  Philip,  dogmati- 
cally. "  Her  highest  ambition  is  to  have  a  home  of 
her  own.  Every  action  of  her  life  is  set  towards  that 
aim.  Show  me  a  woman  who  is  not  looking  out  for 
a  husband,  and  I  tell  you  she  is  either  an  abnormal 
creature,  with  no  womanly  instincts,  or  else  she  is  a 
crushed  being  with  all  the  springs  of  hope  and  joy 
dried  up  within  her.  In  the  discipline  of  marriage  the 
woman  is  developed  into  the  angel." 

"The  Bible  does  not  say  that  marriage  is  the 
straightest  road  to  heaven,"  murmured  Hetty. 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY    IN    l8oo.  195 

"  All  women  are  not  seeking  husbands,"  said 
Dora,  looking  up  from  her  books  and  joining  in  the 
conversation.  "  Why,  the  very  idea  takes  away  all 
the  bloom  and  beauty  from  the  gifts  of  a  woman's 
love ! " 

"And  it  would  make  it  horrible  to  be  an  old 
bachelor,"  observed  Mr.  Fiske  comically ;  "  somebody 
so  worthless  as  to  be  overlooked  even  in  the  universal 
search  ! " 

"  A  crushed  being,  with  all  the  springs  of  hope 
and  joy  dried  up  within  her,"  repeated  Hester, 
thoughtfully ;  "  and  that  is  your  description  of  a 
woman  who,  having  loved  truly,  and  lost,  will  not 
put  a  common  pebble  where  she  once  wore  a  diamond. 
That  is  your  kindest  name  for  the  women  whose  hearts 
have  gone  before  them  to  heaven.  Mr.  Fiske,  I 
suppose  this  description  applies  to  your  Richard 
Wriksworth's  little  puss,  and  other  single  women,  who 
have  never  seen  the  man  they  could  love,  or  have 
seen  him  too  late,  or  with  some  barrier  between  them  ; 
and  so  looking  for  no  earthly  change  are  cheerfully 
content  to  live  the  life  that  Christ  lived.  They  are 
all  'crushed  beings'  with  the  springs  of  hope  and 
joy  dried  up  within  them." 

"  You  needn't  defend  old  maids  so  fiercely,  Hetty," 
said  Sibyl,  laughing  ;  "  don't  make  common  cause  with 
them  just  yet,  nobody  knows  what  may  happen." 

"  The  great  body  of  women  are  quietly  contented 
with  this  holy  and  happy  lot,"  remarked  Philip. 
"Their   religion    and  their  domesticity,  go   hand    in 


106  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

hand.  If  a  woman  surrenders  the  one,  the  other  fol- 
lows. The  woman  who  begins  to  think  that  the  life 
of  her  mothers  is  not  sufficient  for  her,  will  presently 
question  the  creed  of  her  fathers.  The  faith  that  sat- 
isfied great  theologians  and  philosophers  will  not  be 
spared  by  her  inquiring  mind." 

'•  What  a  pity  the  world  ever  moved  on  at  all !  " 
said  Hester,  excited  to  catch  so  good  a  throw  at  her 
opponent.  "  What  a  pity,  we  sweet  gentle  women 
dare  to  differ  from  Luther,  when  he  condemned  a  con- 
sumptive baby  as  a  thing  bewitched  of  the  devil !  " 

There  is  scarcely  an  error  or  heresy  into  which  such 
rigid  following  of  precedents,  might  not  guide  us. 

"  Well !  let  a  woman  surrender  religion,  and  she  will 
find  that  it  alone  secured  her  from  becoming  a  slave 
and  the  prey  of  wicked  men,"  said  Philip,  composedly. 
"  Women  are  instinctively  religious,  and  in  her  own 
interests  let  her  keep  that  instinct." 

"  I  don't  believe  women  need  religion  a  whit  more 
than  men,"  returned  Hester,  fiercely.  "  It  does  not 
say  so  in  the  Bible,  and  the  thing  is  often  called  reli- 
gion in  women  is  not  so  good  or  so  near  the  reality  as 
the  common  honor  of  men.  I  have  known  women 
with  all  the  outward  developments  of  this  instinct,  who 
have  been  regular  Sunday  school  teachers,  and  district- 
visitors  and  church-goers,  but  who  would  dock  half- 
pence from  their  tradespeoples'  bills,  to  swell  their 
charity  lists  ;  who  would  open  desks  to  read  others' 
letters  that  should  have  been  held  as  sacred  as  their 
lives ;  who  would  underpay  the  women  they  employed 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY    IN    1800.  I97 

to  make  knick-knacks  for  a  fancy  bazar,  and  then 
allow  the  said  knick-knacks  to  pass  as  the  product  of 
their  own  ingenious  industry.  This  is  the  morality 
that  sprouts  from  the  mere  '  religious  instinct'  which 
is  nothing  more  than  a  tendency  to  go  to  church  as 
men  go  to  a  music-hall,  to  fill  up  an  idle  hour.  And 
it  seems  to  me,  that  to  uphold  religion  on  the  ground 
of  personal  expediency  may  be  very  natural,  but  is 
scarcely  commendable.  If  that  is  the  only  reason  why 
women  should  cling  to  it,  the  least  selfish  natures  will 
resign  it  first." 

"  Hush  Hester,  dear,"  said  Lizzie,  gently. 

"  It  is  not  I  who  am  saying  so  of  religion,"  cried 
Hester.  "  It  is  only  the  way  in  which  Philip  puts  it 
that  forces  my  answers  to  seem  as  if  I  did  not  think 
marriage  the  happiest  lot  of  man  or  woman,  and  re- 
ligion just  the  one  thing  that  makes  life  endurable," 
and  Hester  paused,  as  if  she  scarcely  realized  the  last 
truth  she  had  uttered.  Then  she  went  on,  "  But  I  do 
utterly  deny  that  it  is  anybody's  worldly  interest  to  be 
religious.  I  utterly  deny  that  real  religion  ever  walks 
in  silver  slippers.  God  often  pays  his  servants  well. 
But  the  devil  appears  to  pay  better  ;  I  know  it  is  only 
in  appearance,  because  God's  payments  are  only  on 
account,  and  his  are  in  advance." 

"  But  God  alone  gives  the  peace  that  passes  under- 
standing," whispered  Miss  Capel. 

"  True,  Lizzie,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  know  good  peo- 
ple are  happier  than  bad  ones.  They  get  the  full 
good  out  of  everything;  a  crust  and  an  appetite  are 


I98  GOLD   AND    DR'i>S. 


better  than  venison  and  none.  But  then  it  is  the  same 
with  men  as  with  women.  You  never  find  these  dis- 
tinctions in  the  Bible.  We  are  all  fellow-creatures 
there,  with  a  great  deal  more  in  common  than  in  par- 
ticular." 

"  These  questions  were  not  raised  in  Bible  days," 
said  Philip  ;  composedly.  "  It  is  just  a  mania  that 
has  seized  the  present  age,  and  will  die  harmlessly 
in  the  natural  order  of  things." 

"It  is  a  question  as  old  as  the  hills,"  returned 
Hester.  "Though  it  is  one  of  those  things,  which  as 
Sybil  says  of  chivalry  has  a  phase  peculiar  to  every 
age.  Isaiah  pays  no  tender  compliments  to  the  care- 
less woman,  '  and  the  women  that  are  at  ease. '  And 
if  all  women  were  equal  to  the  model  in  the  last  chap- 
ter of  Proverbs,  we  should  not  have  so  many  pamph- 
lets and  speeches  about  us." 

"  But  you  see  they  are  not,"  said  Philip,  compla- 
cently ;  "that  is  all  the  difference." 

"Just  the  same  as  very  few  of  the  men  are  like  the 
one  in  the  fifteenth  Psalm,  but  it  is  what  we  are  meant 
to  try  after,"  returned  Hester. 

"  The  wise  woman  depicted  was  a  wife,  remem- 
ber,'' rejoined  Philip,  in  positive  triumph. 

"  I  know  it;  "  "  but  she  would  have  earned  a  good 
income,  and  have  been  an  important  person,  if  she 
had  been  an  old  maid.  She  was  a  good  business 
woman  and  did  not  sit  still  with  folded  hands,  to  re- 
ceive honor  from  her  husband,  but  reflected  it  back 
again  so  that  he  was  known  in  the  gates.     He  in  his 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY    IN    180O.  I99 


turn,  evidently  left  her  independence  in  her  own  good 
keeping,  '  for  she  considereth  a  field  and  buyeth  it — 
with  the  fruit  of  her  hands  she  planteth  a  vineyard.' 
Her  chief  attributes  were  not  tenderness  and  delicacy, 
'but  strength  and  honor  were  her  clothing;'  and 
although  '  she  opened  her  mouth  with  wisdom,.'  Solo- 
mon did  not  think  it  incongruous  to  add,  that,  '  in  her 
tongue  was  the  law  of  kindness ; '  nor  does  it  seem  that 
her  husband  and  children  were  dissatisfied  with  their 
relationship,  since  the  one  'praiseth  her,'  and  the 
'others  rose  up  and  called  her  blessed,'  and  what 
you,  Philip,  must  think  very  singular,  God  himself  sign- 
ed her  character,  '  as  a  woman  that  feareth  the 
Lord.' " 

And  Hester  thought  her  argument  very  unanswer- 
able till  Philip  said,  with  aggravating  composure. 

"  Well,  if  it  is  as  you  read  it,  and  women  are  so 
well  able  to  take  care  of  themselves,  not  to  add,  of  us 
into  the  bargain  ;  of  course  it  is  unnecessary  that  we 
should  step  into  the  gutter  to  let  them  pass  dry  shod  ; 
or  stand  that  they  may  sit ;  or  grant  any  of  the  late 
prerogatives  that  we  so  gladly  yield  to  what  we  have 
been  taught  to  regard  as  the   softer  and  weaker  sex." 

Hester  drew  a  long,  almost  sobbing  breath  :  "We 
don't  think  we  can  take  care  of  ourselves  in  some  ways 
without  you,  any  more  than  you  can  take  care  of  your- 
selves in  other  ways  without  us.  But  we  do  say  that 
you  have  no  right  to  make  us  puppets  whereon  merely 
to  exercise  your  gallantry.  I  don't  see  why  a  beau 
should  not  be  as  willing  to  make  life  smooth  and  pleas- 


200  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


ant  for  an  industrious  woman  going  about  her  busi- 
ness, as  for  an  idle  dame,  occupied  solely  with  her 
pleasure.  I  don't  see  why  a  woman  must  make 
herself  less  than  she  is  meant  to  be,  to  save  the  men 
from  making  themselves  less  than  they  ought.  I 
think  all  men  whose  courtesy  was  not  a  positive  insult, 
will  be  courteous  still — but  if  not — if  we  must  choose 
between  giving  up  the  inner  path  and  the  proffered 
chair,  or  the  noblest  attributes  of  humanity,  then  by 
all  means  let  the  first  go  !  " 

And  there  the  arguments  ended  ;  having  simply 
strengthened  both  in  their  own  opinions,  which,  as  in 
the  case  of  so  many  opponents,  were  far  less  dissimilar 
than  they  seemed.  Between  natures  so  unlike  as 
Philip's  and  Hester's,  apparent  harmony  would  have 
been  direct  discord.  There  was  no  mutual  ground 
whereon  the  two  could  compare  notes  ;  scarcely  a 
single  w-ord  had  the  same  meaning  to  both  of  them  ; 
and  in  each  there  was  an  under-current  of  personal 
experience  and  feeling  to  which  neither  chose  to  give 
utterance,  though  by  so  doing  either  could  have  won 
the  warmest  sympathy  of  the  antagonist.  If  Hester 
had  only  known  that  notwithstanding  all  the  dainty 
euphemisms  whereby  Philip  seemed  inclined  to  turn 
womanhood  into  a  perishable  piece  of  sugar-candy, 
and  which  to  her  enlightened  sense,  answered  to  a 
true  description  of  the  height  and  depth  and  breadth 
of  Sibyl's  character  ;  yet  the  other  and  truer  half  of 
his  ideal  was  genuinely  embodied  in  his  own  mother, 
who  would  willingly  have  slaved  herself  to  death  for 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY    IN    180O.  201 


her  boy's  sake,  but  finding  no  such  outward  scope  for 
her  loving  energies,  had  turned  them  inward,  and 
spared  and  cared  and  borne  the  reproach  of  a  mean 
and  miserly  housekeeper,  and  undergone  a  series  of 
petty  misunderstandings  and  slights,  which,  however 
ridiculous  they  might  seem  to  eyes  grown  strong  with 
wider  views,  were  a  perfectly  real  martyrdom  to  one 
whose  world  was  her  village  tea-parties.  And  if  Philip 
had  only  known  the  tremblings  and  pangs  that  throb- 
bed and  ached  behind  the  brave  front  that  Hester  was 
turning  to  duty  !  If  he  could  only  have  understood 
the  high  pure  spirit  that  would  gather  all  the  scattered 
roses  of  its  destined  way,  while  it  refused  to  own  that 
it  felt  the  thorns  which  its  feet  must  tread  down !  If 
he  had  only  known  that  she  felt  herself  to  be  the 
lovely  struggling  woman  of  whom  he  talked  so  coolly, 
and  that  it  was  her  duty  to  become  the  strong  coura- 
geous woman  to  whom  it  pleased  him  to  give  such 
hard  names.  Sighs  and  tears  win  sympathy  ;  but  oh, 
for  the  wise  insight  which  can  sympathize  with  the 
sighs  that  are  breathed  inwardly  and  the  tears  that  are 
never  seen  !  Hester  did  not  wish  to  deny  womanly 
weakness,  yet  she  indignantly  felt  that  no  woman 
should  think  it  an  affliction  to  have  to  be  worth  her 
place  in  the  world,  whatever  place  God  might  assign. 
But  is  the  weaker  horse  heavily  handicapped  ?  Is  the 
feebler  wrestler  encouraged  with  hisses  and  stones  ? 
Or  if  this  be  man's  way,  is  it  God's?  Although  all 
Philip's  rhetoric  failed  to  shake  Hester's  opinions, 
and  indeed  only  strengthened  her  in  their  advocacy, 
9* 


202  I)    AND    KROSS. 

yet  her  mind  was  too  open,  too  thoughtfully  impartial 
for  her  to  pass  over  her,  wholly  without  influence. 
His  words  meant  more  to  her  that  heard,  than  to  him 
tint  spoke.  There  was  a  convenient  inconsistency 
between  Philip's  mental  processes  and  their  practical 
result.  Instead  of  adapting  his  theories  to  facts,  he 
adapted  facts  to  his  theories.  He  laid  down  strict 
and  narrow  laws,  and  whenever  a  stern  reality  set 
them  utterly  at  naught,  he  instantly  accepted  it  as  one 
of  those  exceptions  that  are  said  to  prove  the  rule. 
If  Hester  had  said  to  him,  broadly  and  plainly,  "I 
have  to  provide  for  myself — am  I  to  make  up  my 
mind  that  it  is  impossible  so  to  do,  or  that  even  if  I 
can,  I  must  reconcile  mvself  to  a  life  of  dissatisfaction 
and  misery  !  "  Then  he  would  have  been  the  first  to  say, 
"  No,  you  are  not  lost  in  the  great  army  of  incapacity. 
There  may  be  but  little  work  going  among  women  yet, 
but  there  are  not  enough  women  fit  for  what  there  is  !  " 
and  he  would  have  reconciled  this  with  his  usual  train 
of  thought ;  by  such  elastic  links  as  "  You  are  differ- 
ent! "  and  "  Circumstances  alter  cases." 

But  between  these  two,  such  explanation  could 
never  be — and  so  the  way  before  Hester  looked 
doubly  as  steep  and  as  long  as  it  was.  Under  so 
treacherous  a  surveying-glass,  a  weaker  woman  would 
have  sat  down    dii  i.u;ed.     But  Hester  girded  up 

her  strength  with  a  brave  determination  to  be  equal 
to  all  the  trials  of  the  unknown  future. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


"  IN  ALL  TIME   OF  OUR  TRIBULATION." 


HE  summer  wore  away.     It  was  a   weird, 

and  ghastly  time  to  Hester. 

The  hours  seemed  so  long  and  weary 

and  yet  the  days  appeared  to  run  down  so 
swiftly  towards  Michaelmas.  Lizzie  never  spoke 
about  the  change  that  was  coming  upon  them,  except 
in  a  plain  matter-of-fact  way.  Her  old  duties  of  work 
and  saving,  as  long  as  they  lasted,  would  quite  absorb 
her  time,  who  shall  say.  Whether  she  had  so  learned 
to  cast  her  care  upon  God,  that  she  could  keep  her 
thoughts  in  the  same  sphere  with  her  busy  hands,  and 
trust  that  one  gate  would  not  close  until  another 
opened,  without  even  any  breathless  watching  for  the 
first  creak  of  the  hinge  ?  At  any  rate  she  was  not  one 
of  those  people  who  neglect  to-day's  work,  lest  they 
should  have  none  to-morrow.  If  there  were  some 
silent  anxieties  in  her  mind,  depend  upon  it  they  were 
like  the  patient  interest  of  a  child,  who  does  not  doubt 
that  his  father  will  bring  in  something  good  for  the 
next  meal,  but  only  wonders  what  it  will  be. 


204  GOLD    AND    DRi 

Hester  had  no  absorbing  duties;  her  leisurely  days 
fell  upon  her  as  a  dead-weight  ;  like  gold  upon  a  capi- 
talist shot  in  a  beleaguered  city.  She  felt  bitter  fore- 
bodings lest  she  should  some  day  sorely  need  the 
moments  that  now  wore  away  so  heavily.  She  was 
discovering  a  new  meaning  in  life,  which  is  a  word  of 
many  significations.  She  had  always  known  that  the 
family  was  what  is  termed  "  unprovided  for "  but 
hitherto  the  fact  had  only  flashed  into  her  mind,  with 
a  sort  of  ambitious  delight  when  she  had  read  of  the 
triumphs  of  self-dependent  women.  But  it  is  quite 
one  matter  to  look  at  an  object,  and  another  to  look 
from  it.  The  lad  who  whilst  listening  to  the  recruit- 
ing-sergeant, who  feels  himself  sure  to  become  a  great 
officer,  once  enlisted,  is  only  too  likely  to  forget  that 
he  has  at  least,  a  chance.  Hester  no  longer  thought 
of  Mary  Russell  Mitford  waiting  in  the  empty  twilight 
auction-rooms,  to  be  told  that  a  thousand  voices  were 
applauding  her  drama.  She  forgot  Frances  Burney, 
at  that  auspicious  moment  when  her  father  laid  his 
finger  on  the  advertisement  of  "  Evelina.1'  and  ob- 
served "  that  he  must  read  that  book."  She  forgot 
Angelica  Kauffmann's  academic  honors.  Nay,  turn- 
ing to  a  nearer  and  wider  level,  she  no  longer  mused 
on  the  widow  who  lived  but  a  few  doors  off — a  mer- 
chant's widow,  left  with  no  legacy  but  her  husband's 
debts'  and  five  small  children — who  had  gone  up  to 
her  husband's  place  of  business  and  attended  her 
markets,  and  done  all  kinds  of  brave  and  unusual 
deeds,  at  first,  because  nobody  should  lose  by  having 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF    OUR    TRIBULATION.  205 

trusted  her  husband,  and  then,  because  she  would  like 
to  do  justice  to  his  orphans,  and  lastly  because  she 
had  grown  used  to  it,  and  didn't  see  why  she  should 
not  go  on  till  she  had  made  a  little  purse  for  her  old 
age,  and  her  eldest  son  was  old  enough  to  take  her 
place.  Hester  even  forgot  to  think  of  her  dressmaker 
who  kept  the  corner  house,  a  single  woman  always 
picking  some  scapegrace  relation  out  of  trouble  ;  and 
yet  thriving  and  happy  through  all.  No,  Hester  now 
thought  of  the  great  army  of  daily  governesses  ;  many 
of  them  so  terribly  glad  to  earn  something,  and  yet 
comparatively  so  few  like  herself  with  positively  noth- 
ing and  nobody  to  fall  back  upon.  She  had  known 
such,  out  of  engagements  for  months  together,  and 
then  away  went  her  imagination,  to  some  draughty 
upper-chamber  where  she  saw  herself  stitching  some 
weary  seam,  and  dreaming  of  green  fields,  one  glimpse 
of  which,  would  "  cost  a  meal."  She  began  to  observe 
women  who  went  to  and  fro  past  their  houses  at 
stated  times,  to  notice  what  dress  they  wore,  and  how 
they  looked,  and  to  wonder  what  each  of  them  did  ! 

Then  with  some  strange  memory  of  the  text  "  in 
all  labor  there  is  profit,"  she  set  herself  all  sorts  of 
great  tasks.  Work,  sheer  hand-labor,  was  a  kind  of 
comfort  to  her.  If  we  are  to  have  a  new  house:mate, 
we  want  to  grow  a  little  acquainted  with  him  before- 
hand. And  Hester  wanted  to  know  how  it  felt  to  sit 
for  hours  and  hours  at  one  monotonous  task.  She 
chanced  to  hear  Lizzie  say  that  they  must  buy  some 
flannel    to    prepare   for    winter  petticoats,    and    she 


206  GOLD    AND    DK 

instantly  suggested  that  yarn  should  be  bought  Instead, 
and    that   she    herself  would   knit   them,  as   she   had 

rd  that  such  was  held  to  be  a  thrifty  practice  in 
many  Scotch  country-houses. 

The  yarn  was  bought,  the  saving  on  the  whole 
purchase  was  found  to  be  only  three  or  four  shillings  ; 
but  Hester  was  proud  of  that,  and  set  to  work,  with 
all  her  might.  She  rose  early  and  worked  from  meal 
to  meal  till  ten  o'clock  at  night.  Nobody  knew  the 
whole  of  her  diligence,  for  she  carried  it  on  in  secret, 
in  her  own  room,  where  she  was  supposed  to  be  read- 
ing, or  otherwise  amusing  herself. 

All  through  the  hot  July  days,  the  fuzzy  yarn 
passed  through  her  fevered  sensitive  hands.  She  did 
two  petticoats  in  a  week,  and  triumphantly  "  cast  off" 
the  last  stitch  before  tea-time  on  Saturday. 

When  she  descended"  to  the  parlor,  Sibyl  was  there, 
having  just  returned  from  her  afternoon  teaching.  It 
had  been  a  treacherous  changeable  morning  ;  but 
Sibyl  had  refused  to  cumber  herself  with  umbrella  or 
waterproof,  or  to  go  in  anything  but  her  best  dress, 
and  crape-trimmed  jacket.  Consequently,  she  had 
been  caught  in  a  shower,  and  was  now  daintily  dab- 
bing her  moist  finery  with  her  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  never  look  as  well  again," 
said  Lizzie. 

"  I  only  hope  you  won't  catch  cold  yourself," 
observed  Philip,  standing  by. 

"  Aren't   you  sorry,  now,  that   you  put  it  on  ? " 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF    OUR    TRIBULATION.  207 

asked  Dora,  who  had  heard  her  reject  her  sisters' 
advice  on  the  subject  before  she  started. 

But  Sibyl  seemed  by  no  means  inclined  for  regret 
just  then.  She  was  scarcely  in  a  good  temper  ;  yet 
lively  and  excited.  No,  I'm  not,  she  retorted. 
"  What  are  clothes  for,  but  to  wear  ?  If  you  are 
always  reserving  your  best  for  fear  of  accidents,  they 
grow  dowdy  and  old-fashioned  before  you  have  got 
any  good  out  of  them.  And  whenever  you  go  shabby, 
somebody's  sure  to  meet  you." 

"  By  that  rule,  if  you  go  fine,  nobody  will  meet 
you  ;  the  finery  is  wasted,  and  the  friend  missed !  " 
said  Dora,  mischievously. 

"  Oh,  it  need  not  be  a  friend,"  answered  Sibyl, 
with  a  shade  of  contempt  at  Dora's  youthful  green- 
ness. "  Friends  don't  notice  so  much,  and  if  they  do, 
it  doesn't  matter.  I  mean  people  that  you  know. 
Spiteful  sort  of  acquaintances,  particularly." 

"But  wouldn't  you  rather  adorn  yourself  to  please 
the  eyes  that  love  you,  than  to  spite  malice?"  asked 
Philip  ;  in  that  tone  that  signified  certainty  of  at  least, 
secret  acquiescence. 

For  a  moment  Sibyl  pouted  dissent.  Then 
adroitly  turned  off  the  question  with  a  sentiment. 
"  The  eyes  that  love  me,  would  fancy  I  adorned  what- 
ever I  wore."  And  a  bewitching  glance  carried  the 
pretty  arrow  straight  to  the  soft  side  target  of  Philip's 
heart.  She  uttered  the  sweet  soft  compliment,  not  in 
the  tone  of  sprightly  raillery,  which  would  have  made 
it  sincere — but  with  a  semblance  of  grave  sincerity 


2o8  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

that  turned  it  into  bitter  satire  and  sickened  Hester, 
who  instantly  requested  Lizzie  to  give  her  a  cup  of 
tea,  as  quickly  as  she  could,  as  she  wanted  to  go  out. 

"  It  promises  to  be  a  lovely  evening  after  the 
storm,"  observed  Mr.  Lewis,  "  shall  we  take  the 
omnibus,  and  spend  an  hour  or  two  in  the  Regent's 
Park,  Sibyl  ?  " 

Sibyl  hesitated.  "  O,  my  boots  are  soaked,"  she 
said  (she  had  a  dry  pair  in  her  room)  ;  "  and  I  shall 
have  to  change  this  dress  for  the  nasty  old  one.  And 
I  am  very  tired,  and  I  have  a  good  deal  to  do.  I  can't 
go  to-night,  really." 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  for  being  so  thoughtless 
as  to  ask  you,"  answered  poor  Philip. 

Then  Hester  went  away  and  prepared  for  her 
walk.  Before  she  had  finished  dressing,  she  heard 
Sibyl  go  into  her  own  room,  and  as  Hester  passed  out, 
she  saw  through  her  sister's  open  door,  that  Sibyl  was 
sitting  at  the  window,  her  hair  half  loose  about  her 
shoulders,  and  her  hands  lying  in  her  lap.  Fearful 
lest  she  should  call  her,  Hester  hastened  quietly  away, 
for  she  had  a  particular  purpose  in  her  walk,  and  did 
not  wish  to  be  delayed. 

Two  or  three  years  before,  in  the  course  of  a  sum- 
mer's evening  visit  to  Chelsea  Hospital,  she  remem- 
bered seeing  a  shop  in  the  King's  Road,  where  knitted 
garments  were  displayed.  She  and  Lizzie  had  taken 
particular  notice  of  them  at  the  time,  but  in  those  days 
they  had  not  noticed  the  prices,  knowing  they  had  no 
money  for  random  purchases,  and  never  thinking  of 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF    OUR   TRIBULATION.  2O0. 

any  need  for  sale.  But  it  struck  her  now,  that  she 
should  like  to  know  the  money-value  of  her  week's 
hard  labor. 

It  was  a  long  long  walk  to  take  for  such  an  object. 
But  her  mind  was  the  calmer  for  any  strong  exertion, 
and  Hester,  as  yet,  knew  nothing  of  "re-actions." 
There  is  an  ignorance  which  is  the  first  stage  of  wis- 
dom. While  stern  necessity  stands  over  us,  like  the 
centurion,  bidding  us  "go,"  and  "come,"  it  is  well 
that  we  should  not  think  much  of  the  consequences  of 
commands  for  which  we  are  not  responsible,  and  which 
we  must  obey.  When  a  lad  has  to  choose  a  calling, 
if  instead  of  at  once  taking  that  to  which  his  tastes 
lead  him,  he  resolves  to  read  the  medical  opinions 
upon  all  professions  and  trades,  determined  to  choose 
only  that  which  is  distinctly  stated  not  to  have  its 
own  peculiar  short-cut  to  death ;  then  we  may  safely 
predicate  that  the  King  of  Terrors  will  soon  come  to 
him  in  the  shape  of  starvation,  at  the  work-house  door. 
There  is  a  divine  ignorance,  as  well  as  a  divine  defi- 
ance of  "consequences."  It  is  dangerous  "  to  count 
the  cost  too  carefully,"  when  we  have  no  opportunity 
to  compare  our  arithmetical  result,  with  the  correct 
answer  written  in  God's  key  to  the  problems  of  provi- 
dence. If  Jacob  had  not  risen  above  his  calculations 
in  that  forlorn  assent — "  If  I  be  bereaved  of  my  chil- 
dren, I  am  bereaved,"  would  he  have  seen  Joseph 
again  ?  No,  unless  youth  has  other  thoughts  to  call  it 
away  from  economical  considerations  of  its  own  ener- 
gies, mental  power  and  physical  health,  it  will  find  it- 


2IO  GOLD    AND    I 'ROSS. 


self  like  the  young  man  described  by  the  old  essayist, 
whose  mother  had  been  so  fearful  lest  study  or  exercise 
should  injure  his  eyesight,  his  lungs  or  his  limbs,  that 
he  proved  as  helpless  as  he  could  have  been,  had  he 
lost  the  use  of  all.  Life  will  not  trust  us  in  any 
worthy  post,  until  it  has  part  of  our  very  being  in 
pledge. 

Hester  kept  steadily  on  her  road.  But  when  she 
reached  Piccadilly,  she  grew  doubtful  which  was  her 
nearest  way,  and  not  being  very  well  acquainted  with 
the  intricacies  of  Knightsbridge,  she  resolved  on  the 
route  which  she  knew — across  the  Green  Park,  and 
through  Pimlico.  Out  of  the  hot  dusty  streets,  the 
cool  breeze  of  the  Park  was  refreshing  enough  j  but  she 
did  not  even  feel  a  wish  to  loiter  there — what  was 
there  in  common  between  her,  and  the  happy  lovers 
seated  in  bliss  together,  with  hands  slily  clasped  under 
the  treacherous  screen  of  the  feminine  shawl  ?  Some 
of  them  might  be  poor  enough.  That  fact  was  too 
patent  for  her  to  assume  otherwise,  but  at  least  they 
were  secure  and  settled  in  their  own  humble  spheres. 
This  she  could  assume  with  all  the  gloriously  uncer- 
tain latitude  allowed  to  assumptions.  How  could  she 
suppose  that  one  girl,  who  looked  at  her  as  she  passed, 
with  a  face  still  blushing  from  her  lover's  praises, 
spared  a  thought  from  her  delicious  dream  to  wish 
that  her  jacket  was  as  well-made  as  Hester's?  Or 
that  another,  in  all  the  glory  of  a  "respectable  married 
woman,"  husband  beside,  and  child  in  arms,  glanced 
from  her  own  shabby  dress  to  Hester's  trim  mourning, 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF    OUR    TRIBULATION.  211 

and  half-longed  for  the  days  when  she  was  a  milliner's 
show-woman,  and  had  "  eighteen  shillings  a  week  all 
to  herself; "  two  silk  dresses  in  wear  at  once,  and  no 
baby,  nor  back-ache  ! 

Hester  walked  on;  she  had  passed  the  middle  of 
the  park,  and  was  nearing  its  southern  margin  when 
she  became  suddenly  aware  of  somebody  hurrying 
after  her,  and  a  gay  voice  just  behind,  cried,  lightly, 
"  whither  away  so  fast,  fair  lady?  I  did  not  expect  the 
pleasure  of  seeing"  you  again  to-day."  And  a  tall  gen- 
tleman sprang  in  front  of  her,  looked  smilingly  down 
at  her  startled  earnest  face,  and  with  an  instantane- 
ous change  of  tone  and  manner,  raised  his  hat,  apolo- 
gizing for  a  very  foolish  mistake,  and  was  gone;  Hes- 
ter scarcely  knew  in  what  direction.  She  had  not 
even  paused  in  her  amazement;  but  yet  she  had  taken 
in  the  face,  figure  and  whole  bearing  of  the  man.  A 
tall  young  man,  aristocratically  ugly,  with  a  chesnut 
beard,  and  lilies  of  the  valley  in  his  button-hole. 
Such  a  thing  had  never  happened  to  Hester  before. 
Was  there  something  by  which  men  knew  when  wom- 
en were  in  sore  trouble,  and  chose  that  moment  for 
overture  or  insult  ?  Forgive  her  the  morbid  thoughts 
— her  poor  brain  was  sadly  beaten,  and  she  was  weary 
already.  It  was  gone  in  an  instant,  as  she  remem- 
bered the  quick  subtle  change  in  his  style  of  address, 
when  he  found  that  he  had  taken  her  for  somebody 
very  different  from  what  he  found  her.  No,  it  was 
nothing — nothing  at  all,  but  what  he  said;  "a  very 
foolish  mistake."     But  yet  it  left  a  sense  of  unprotec- 


2  1  2  LD   AND    DR' 

tion  in  the  midst  of  a  cruel  mocking  world,  which  was 
an  added  drop  of  bitterness  in  the  cup  of  gall  she  was 
drinking. 

At  last  Hester  reached  the  end  of  her  journey;  she 
found  the  shop  not  shut,  and  though  most  of  the  win- 
dow was  devoted  to  goods  more  suited  to  the  season, 
still  there  were  a  few  petticoats  just  like  those  she  had 
been  making.  Alas,  alas,  the  price-tickets  told  her — 
that  leaving  the  very  narrowest  margin  of  profit  for  the 
shop-keeper,  and  supposing  that  yarn  was  very  much 
cheaper  when  bought  for  "the  trade" — her  weeks' 
industry  would  not  have  brought  in  five  shillings' 
profit.  Something  hot  flushed  up  to  Hester's  eyes, 
but  no  tears  came,  as  she  stood  motionless,  among  the 
bustling  group  that  paused  to  admire  the  gay  display. 
Should  she  ever  care  to  look  at  shops  again  ?  When 
one  reads  an  old-fashioned  story,  and  enjoys  it  just  as  a 
story,  till  one  comes  to  a  grim  moral  at  the  end,  one 
can  never  reperuse  the  tale  without  hearing  the  moral 
all  through.  Ever  after  one  has  seen  below,  one's 
eyes  refuse  to  stop  at  the  mere  surface. 

She  walked  slowly  clown  the  road,  not  in  the  di- 
rection of  home.  Then  turned  back.  Five  shillings 
was  very,  very  little.  But  if  life  was  hard  as  this,  she 
must  not  miss  the  opportunity  of  laying  in  a  little 
store,  offered  by  the  few  weeks  still  to  be  spent  in  the 
now  burdensome  leisure  of  her  old  home.  This  shop- 
keeper might  have  work  to  give.  Hester  was  as  yet 
quite  ignorant  of  such  petty  details  as  "  references," 
and  "experience."     She  would  go  in  and  ask  if  they 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF   OUR    TRIBULATION.  213 

could  employ  her,  or  if  they  would  at  least  take  down 
her  name  for  the  first  vacancy.  But  she  quailed,  when 
she  saw  the  brilliantly  lit  shop,  and  an  affluent  look- 
ing pair  of  customers  purchasing  Balbriggan  hosiery. 
There  was  a  young  man  lingering  at  the  door  too, 
who  did  not  look  like  a  mere  shopman,  and  though  he 
was  quite  a  lad,  not  more  than  nineteen  or  twenty, 
yet  to  Hester's  nervous  excitement,  even  he,  was  for- 
midable. She  walked  down  the  road  again — resolving 
she  would  go  in  when  the  shop  was  clear  of  customers. 
On  her  next  return  she  found  it  so.  Then  with  a  heroic 
exertion  of  will,  which  to  the  inexperienced  must  seem 
altogether  disproportioned  to  the  occasion,  she  enter- 
ed. The  departed  purchasers  had  closed  the  door  be- 
hind them.  It  had  a  bell  fastened  to  it,  which  rang  as 
if  to  herald  the  approach  of  an  order  for  not  less  than 
five  pounds'  worth  of  goods.  Two  shopmen  and  one 
shopwoman  made  motions  of  obsequious  welcome  from 
their  respective  posts.  Hester  made  a  desperate 
movement  towards  the  girl.  What  she  said,  she  never 
knew  ;  but  she  said  it  so  hurriedly,  that  she  was  forc- 
ed to  repeat  it.  And  then  ?  why  then,  the  obedient 
smile  died  on  the  shop-girl's  face,  and  she  drew  herself 
up,  and  said,  coolly  : 

"  O  dear,  no.  We  procure  all  our  work  through 
regular  agencies  like  other  respectable  establish- 
ments." 

"What  is  it,  Miss  Smith  ? "  interposed  one  of  the 
shopmen. 

"  The   young  person  wants   to  find  employment. 


2  14  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


that's  all,"  returned  the  girl,  retiring  from  the  coun- 
ter. 

Hester  looked  forlornly  at  the  man  as  he  came 
forward,  as  if  she  hoped  against  hope  for  better  news 
from  him.  He  was  a  good-natured,  common-looking 
man,  with  an  immense  chain  and  seals — the  sort  of 
man  who  can  speak  lightly  enough  of  distress  behind 
its  back,  but  cannot  help  feeling  sympathetic  while  he 
meets  its  eyes. 

"  You  see,  miss,"  said  he;  "  we  take  our  embroid- 
ery from  the  Madeira  nunneries,  and  our  knitting 
from  the  Shetlanders,  who  are  always  in  such  dis- 
tress when  their  fisheries  fail  as  they  do,  pretty  often. 
Ladies  always  ask  for  Madeira  work  and  Shetland 
goods.  But,  lor,  miss,  you  don't  lose  much,  for  it's 
awful  bad  pay.     You  couldn't  get  anything  worse." 

He  meant  no  harm  by  his  familiarity — rather  the 
reverse.  Hester  remembered  his  words  afterwards,  as 
a  coarsely-distilled  drop  of  human  kindness.  She  ut- 
tered her  apology  and  thanks  heartily,  and  turned 
away.  The  youth  who  had  been  standing  in  the  thresh- 
old, opened  the  door  for  her,  and  let  her  out  with  a 
bow.  The  shopman  did  not  like  to  see  courtesy  so  wast- 
ed by  his  grave  young  master,  who  had  just  taken  the 
place  of  a  suddenly  deceased  father,  and  had  discon- 
tinued Academic  preparations,  for  a  different  career, 
to  do  an  eldest  son's  duty  to  a  widowed  mother,  and  a 
crowd  of  younger  children. 

"  She  was  only  a  gal  wanting  work,  Mr.  Melvill," 
he  said. 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF    OUR    TRIBULATION.  215 

"What  of  that?"  asked  the  young  principal, 
gravely.     And  the  shopman  was  abashed. 

"  Are  there  many  such  come  here  ?  "  inquired  the 
young  man,  presently. 

"  No — oh,  no,  sir.  All  the  years  I've  been  here, 
sir,  I've  known  but  two  or  three.  Those  that  do,  must 
be  dreadful  green — hem  ! — very  inexperienced  sir." 

"  It  is  very  sad,  said  the  young  master,"  as  if  think- 
ing aloud. 

"  O,  I  don't  suppose  they're  in  want  of  a  living,  sir. 
Only  pocket-money  and  so  forth,  most  likely,  sir." 

Mr.  Melvill  made  no  reply,  till  he  said,  suddenly. 
"  If  it  ever  happen  again,  Webb,  I  will  answer  them 
myself.  Please  to  remember  that."  And  he  went  off 
to  the  counting-house. 

"Well,  I  never  !"  ejaculated  the  shopwoman. 

"When  the  master  knows  a  little  more,  he  won't 
take  upon  himself  trouble  that  he  needn't,"  said  the 
shopman. 

Hester  walked  on  again.  She  did  not  turn  in  the 
direction  of  home.  For  the  first  few  minutes  she  did 
not  notice  where  she  was  going,  and  when  her  con- 
sciousness came  clearly  back,  she  found  herself  near 
a  long  rambling  old  street  that  she  remembered  in 
former  summer  rambles.     It  led  down  to  the  river. 

The  houses  were  poor  and  sordid,  and  sluttish 
women  were  hanging  about  the  doors,  and  ill-kept 
children  quarrelling  in  the  gutter.  Gradually  it 
became  more  respectable  in  appearance — the  houses" 
with  their  short    white  curtains   and   neatly-trimmed 


2l6  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


evergreens  looked  like  the  homes  of  decent  working- 
people.  Hester,  as  she  went  along,  wondered  to 
herself  how  they  got  their  living  !  She  almost  wished 
that  she  might  rap  at  the  pretty  little  green  doors  and 
inquire.  But  suddenly,  the  houses  were  of  an  utterly 
different  character.  Tall  brick  structures  with  many 
small-paned  windows,  and  wide  thin  old  steps.  Little 
bits  of  grotesque  carving  above  the  door,  and  fanci- 
fully devised  fan-lights.  Homes,  once  of  rank  and 
fashion  and  still  of  comfort  and  affluence,  Plates 
announcing  well-established  professions,  adorned  the 
old  doors  whereon  footmen  had  once  thundered,  while 
the  link-holders  remained  to  tell  of  many  a  night  of 
splendid  revelry.  Hester  was  on  one  of  the  classic 
grounds  of  London.  Coming  through  Manor  street 
she  had  reached  Cheyne  Walk. 

The  sun  had  not  been  set  too  long  for  a  glory  still 
to  linger  over  the  river  and  the  opposite  shore. 
Hester  stood  by  the  rude  old  paling,  and  looked  down 
at  the  boats  moored  below.  The  boatmen  were 
moving  to  and  fro,  laughing  and  joking  with  each 
other.  In  one  barge,  sat  a  young  woman  darning  a 
child's  stocking,  the  baby  itself  asleep  on  a  cushion 
of  shawls  near  her.  Two  boys  came  along  beside 
Hester,  and  leaned  over  the  balustrade,  one  was 
munching  a  hunch  of  bread,  and  the  other  took  to 
the  amusement  of  throwing  pebbles  into  the  river. 
They  were  errand-boys,  just  released  from  their  day's 
"labor. 

"  I'm  to  have  my  holiday  in  August,"  said  he  of 


IN   ALL    TIME    OF    OUR    TRIBULATION.  217 

the  pebbles.     "  I'm  going  down  by  the  boat  to  my 
uncle's  at  Yarmouth  ;  ain't  it  jolly?  " 

a  I  don't  have  no  holidays  but  at  Whitsom,"  said 
the  other;  "but  I  don't  care.  I'm  to  have  two  shillings 
a  week  more  after  Michaelmas.  Well,  I  ought  to  be 
worth  it.  I  be  kept  my  place  two  year,  and  I'm  big 
and  strong  now  ;  "  and  they  moved  away. 

Hester's  eyes  strained  painfully  over  the  river. 
It  was  a  lonely  world,  and  it  seemed  a  good  place  for 
everybody — except  one  like  herself!  Gloomy  images 
crossed  her  mind.  She  remembered  having  heard 
some  lecturer  allude  "  to  the  necessary  victims  that 
must  be  crushed  under  the  Juggernaut-car  of  civiliza- 
tion.'"' Bitterly  arose  the  cruel  phase,  <:  superfluous 
women."  Underneath  all  its  beauty,  the  earth 
seemed  of  iron,  and  all  the  glowing  sky  as  but 
burnished  brass.  And  God  Himself — how  could  He 
remember  her ! 

The  boy  with  the  bread  had  dropped  some  crumbs. 
Hester  saw  them,  and  with  the  strange  arithmetical 
tendency  of  an  over-wrought  mind  was  mechanically 
counting  them.  Five,  six,  seven.  Down  came  a 
sparrow,  and  carried  off  one,  straight  up  among  the 
trees  and  presently  came  again — she  was  sure  it  was 
the  same  one — with  another,  and  they  both  pecked 
and  chirped  together,  like  a  married  couple  making 
purchases.  Who  sent  the  bird  to  the  crumb  ?  Who 
did  not  forget  the  sparrow  ?  And  yet — and  yet — there 
were  storms  which  left  dead  birds  strewn  upon  the 
ground,  and  depend  on  it,  in  many  a  chimney  and 
10 


2l8  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


architrave  little  feathered  skeletons  withered  away  to 
nothingness.  With  a  great  heaving  sob  she  realized 
it — it  was  His  will.  Christ  did  not  say,  no  sparrow 
ever  fell  to  the  ground,  but  that  not  one  should  fall 
without  the  Father.  "  Fear  ye  not  therefore,  are  ye 
not  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows  ? "  It  was 
Christ's  own  inference  that  the  fall  lost  its  ierror,  if 
the  Father  knew  it.  And  Hester  owned  it,  with  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  face.  She  could  not 
take  it  joyfully ;  could  not  take  it,  feeling  sure  that 
every  bitter  bud  would  burst  to  beauteous  blossom. 
But  she  could  say,  "Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I 
trust  Him,"  even  without  the  aid  of  that  precious 
secret  sense  that  God's  slaying  is  His  benediction. 
She  accepted  his  will.  She  did  not  yet  understand 
his  love.  She  was  not  so  far  advanced.  St.  Paul 
tells  us  that  "  tribulation  worketh  patience,  and 
patience  experience,  and  experience  hope." 

And  then  she  went  home.  Had  she  lost  her  even- 
ing, and  spent  her  strength  for  naught  ?  No,  she  had 
gained  more  than  she  knew,  and  she  felt  she  had 
gained  something.  It  would  never  be  so  hard  to  ask 
for  work  again.  This  fact  struck  her  so  forcibly  as  to 
make  her  smile  ;  she  had  got  over  one  of  the  times 
that  she  was  appointed  to  ask  in  vain. 

But  Hester  did  not  know  that  these  painful  experi- 
ences acting  on  the  peculiar  intensifying  nature  were 
giving  her  a  concentrated  depth  of  wisdom,  breaJ.th 
of  sympathy  and  quickness  of  insight,  which  ordinary 
natures  set  in  comfortable  lives  can  barely  touch  by  the 
season  of  white  hairs  and  failing  energies. 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF    OUR    TRIBULATION.  219 

And  now,  all  the  fashionable  and  well-to-do  had 
vanished  from  the  streets,  and  there  was  a  brisk  ready- 
money  trade  going  forward  in  the  shops,  and  the  light- 
hearted  working-people  seemed  to  find  more  inter- 
est and  fun  in  their  purchase  of  six-penny  neces- 
saries, than  do  many  of  those  who  have  all  climates 
under  contribution  for  their  luxuries.  The  variety 
possible,  might  only  be  between  a  "  cottage  loaf"  and 
"  household  bread  ;  "  the  wit  nothing  more  than  the 
butcher's  broad  joke.  But  one  variety  or  one  wit- 
ticism will  serve  human  nature  quite  as  well  as  another. 
Hester  recalled  an  adage  she  had  seen  somewhere. 

"  A  good  many  people  lose  sight  of  enjoyment, 
By  trying  to  catch  it  to  make  it  employment." 

Happiness  with  all  its  outward  signs  of  genuine  ex- 
citement and  mirth,  is  the  cheapest  thing  in  the  world. 
Only  man  is  like  the  savage  natives  of  countries  where 
gold  is  common,  who  will  barter  rich  treasures  for  some 
flaunting  finery,  or  a  cracked  looking-glass.  Happi- 
ness may  be  of  very  common  materials,  the  secret  lies 
in  the  skill  which  makes  them  up. 

By  the  time  she  reached  home,  Hester  wondered 
at  her  own  cheerful  calmness.  She  was  very  tired — 
quite  exhausted — so  that  perhaps  the  agony  was 
rather  blunted  than  removed.  But  she  did  not  think 
of  that,  then ;  and  besides  God  sends  His  bless- 
ings in  various  ways,  and  sometimes  there  must  be  an 
opiate  to  calm  us,  before  we  can  be  strong  enough 
for  a  remedy  to  cure  us. 


2  20  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

Dora  and  Mr.  Lewis  were  alone  in  the  drawing- 
100m,  and  her  inquiry  after  her  sisters,  elicited  Phil- 
ip's reply  that  Sibyl  was  still  busy  up  stairs  and  Eliza- 
beth was  in  the  kitchen.  Hester  sought  her  elder 
sister,  who  was  engaged  with  some  pastry  for  to-mor- 
row. 

"  Why,  wherever  have  you  been  ? "     Lizzie  asked. 

"All  the  way  to  Cheyne  walk — and  I  saw  such  a 
beautiful  sunset,"  Hester  replied. 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  did  not  start  sooner — it  must 
have  been  dark  nearly  all  the  way  home,"  observed 
Elizabeth. 

"  O,  I  am  not  frightened.  There  is  nothing  to  be 
frightened  at,  Lizzie.  The  streets  are  quite  bright  and 
lively  with  the  marketing  folks.  And  for  the  matter 
of  being  noticed,  if  you  walk  straight  ahead,  and  don't 
stare  about,  nobody  is  likely  to  see  whether  you  are  a 
girl  or  an  old  woman.  If  you  are  noticed,  what  does 
it  matter  ?  And  it's  as  likely  to  be  in  the  day  time,  too. 
For  instance,  this  evening  as  I  was  crossing  the  Green 
park  while  it  was  broad  sunlight,  a  gentleman  came 
up  to  me  and  said,  '  Holloa,  fair  lady,  I  didn't  expect 
to  see  you  again  to  day ! '  He  said  he'd  made  a  mis- 
take and  begged  my  pardon.  If  he  had,  what  did  it 
signify  ?  If  he  hadn't,  he  only  made  himself  a  sim- 
pleton.    I  was  none  the  worse." 

"  What  was  he  like  ?  "  asked  Lizzie. 

"  Tall  and  rather  fair — what  Popps  would  call  '  a 
swell ! '  Much  too  fine  a  gentleman  to  be  any  friend 
of  mine,"  she  added,  archly. 


IN    ALL    TIME    OF    OUR    TRIBULATION.  221 

And  so  they  chatted  on.  What  did  it  matter  that 
Mrs.  Edwardes  was  washing  up  dishes  in  the  scullery, 
and  could  hear  every  word  ? 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


SPILT   SALT. 


N  Monday  morning,  Hester,  as  usual,  took 
in  the  letters.  One  from  Ribbock  for  Phil- 
ip, and  one  for  Sibyl.  She  looked  twice 
at  this  last,  because  the  handwriting  struck 
her  as  sadly  like  her  own.  However  when  she  look 
ed  again,  it  seemed  dissimilar  enough.  She  put  them 
into  the  dining-room,  and  went  on  to  the  kitchen, 
whence  came  a  round  of  singing. 

"  You  seem  lively  this  morning,  Popps,"  said  she. 

Popps  laughed ;  "  Well,  miss,"  she  answered, 
"  thare's  enough  grumpin  always  agoing  along  in  the 
world.  So  when  a  body  feels  a  bit  inclined  to  sing,  I 
say  its  her  bounden  duty  to  sing." 

"  Whether  she  can  or  not !  "  laughed  Hester. 

"  Never  fear,"  returned  Popps  ;  "there's  Miss  Liz- 
zie always  a-saying  she's  got  no  ear  nor  voice  and  all 
that — yet  haven't  I  often  heard  her  a-crooning  to  her- 
self, real  beautiful,  all  out  of  her  own  head.  Miss 
Lizzie's  only  a-savin  her  voice  for  heaven.  That 
always  will  come  into  my  head  when  I  hear  the  very 


Spilt  salt.  223 


parsons  a-talking  about  singing  bein'  the  only  gift  that 
we  are  sure  we  shall  practice  above.  I  ain't  sure 
where  the  Bible  says  that,  are  you,  Miss  Hetty  ?  only 
some  folks  will  take  a  great  deal  for  granted.  But 
I'm  certain  sure  that  there's  a  many  who  will  sing  less 
above  for  their  singing  below.  There  was  Polly  Kite, 
as  used  to  be  in  your  sister's  class  along  with  me. 
She'd  a  voice,  if  you  please.  And  she  went  into  the 
singing-class.  Polly  was  seriously  disposed  then. 
But  others  wasn't.  When  a  minister  sets  up  a  sing- 
ing-class, may  be  he'll  have  to  shut  his  eyes  a  bit 
while  he's  listening  to  the  fine  voices.  The  devil's  at 
many  a  prayer-meeting,  as  well  as  many  a  singing- 
lesson,  I  know.  But  then  he  has  to  behave  hisself, 
and  at  t'other  he  has  a  bit  of  fun  on  the  way  home. 
And  ye  can't  be  out  twice  a-chapeling  in  the  week, 
and  Polly  dropped  the  service  when  she  joined  the 
singing.  Then  Polly  took  to  going  to  a  church  that 
had  a  good  organ,  and  warn't  too  particular  who  was 
in  the  choir.  There  was  somebody  there  too,  that,  to 
do  our  minister  justice,  he'd  turned  out  o'  singing-class 
after  tryin'  him  over  and  over  again — cause  why,  he 
was  the  only  tenor  they  had.  And  at  last,  Polly 
wasn't  no  good  at  all  ;  and  now  she  sings  at  publics. 
I  can't  sing  properly,  Miss  Hetty,  and  may  be,  it 
seems  as  if  I  said  this  out  o'  spite  ;  but  when  we  hear 
those  that  happen  to  know  their  notes,  has  such  a  lot 
o'  fine  talk  about  it — it  puts  me  a-mind  of  a  shopman 
chantin'  a  gown,  'cos  he  don't  want  you  to  turn  up  the 
other  side,  where  it's  a  bit  faded. 


224  GOLD   AND    l>KOSS. 

Popps  had  spoken  very  fast,  as  people  often  do, 
when  they  really  have  something  else  to  say — a  natu- 
ral piece  of  Baconian  policy.  After  a  moment's 
pause,  she  asked,  quickly  : 

"May  I  just  speak  to  you,  Miss  Hetty  ?  " 

*'  I'm  sure  you  needn't  ask,"  said  Hester. 

"I  don't  like  to  mention  it  to  Miss  Lizzie,"  Popps 
began  in  a  flurry.  "  I  knows  what  it'll  be  for  her  to 
leave  this.  She  takes  it  like  a  sort  of  dream,  yet. 
Them  dreams  when  you  knows  you're  a-dreaming 
and  has  got  to  wake,  but  wouldn't  while  you  can  help 
it.  It  won't  be  so  bad  when  it  comes,  I 'spose.  But 
any  how,  that'll  be  God's  business.  It's  queer  it  is, 
you  don't  get  more  tired  o'  things  the  longer  you 
have  'em.  I  almost  wanted  a  change  myself  after  I'd 
bin  in  my  place  a  year,  I  did.  After  a  while  you 
settles.  It'll  only  be  a  nice  change  for  you,  Miss 
Hetty.  Change  is  good  for  plants  and  people.  It'll 
be  good  for  Miss  Lizzie  too,  I'll  be  bound — only  it's 
no  good  to  keep  talking  about  it  beforehand.  If 
you're  going  to  have  a  rotten  tooth  out,  you'll  be  all 
the  better  when  it's  done  ;  but  what's  the  good  o'  look- 
ing at  the  dentist's  tools  ?  So  what  I  want  to  ask  is, 
where  do  you  think  o'  goin'  Miss? 

••  Mr.  Fiske  has  been  recommending  apartments 
in  some  of  the  quiet  little  streets  near  Percy  Cres- 
cent," Hester  answered,  with  a  great  lump  in  her 
throat;  "but  Mr.  Lewis  wishes  us  to  go  westward 
not  to  give  my  sister  Sibyl  such  long  journeys.  It  will 
be  only  apartments  somewhere,  Popps." 


SPILT    SALT.  225 


"  But  I'll  go  with  you,"  Popps  suggested,  fearfully. 

Hester  was  silent  for  a  moment,  nobody  finds  it 
so  hard  to  speak  about  poverty,  as  those  who  have 
long  known  it  very  closely,  but  never  before  needed 
to  give  it  a  name.  Then  it  struck  her  that  Popps  had 
a  claim  on  the  truth.  After  her  long  and  faithful  ser- 
vice, it  was  too  bad  to  keep  her  just  as  long  as  it 
suited  themselves,  while  she  might  be  losing  chances 
of  more  permanent  provision.  She  might  be  ready 
to  stay,  because  she  knew  they  were  kind,  and  be- 
lieving in  a  prosperity  that  did  not  exist,  would  have 
a  homely  faith  that  they  would  "see  right."  So  Hes- 
ter spoke  out. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,  Popps.  You  see  I  don't  sup- 
pose we  shall  keep  more  than  three  rooms.  There 
will  not  be  much  to  do. 

"  Is  not  Miss  Dora  to  stay  with  you  Miss?  "  Popps 
asked,  in  a  smothered  voice. 

"  Yes,  at  least  at  present.  But  we  shall  have  a  lit- 
tle bed  made  up  for  her  in  our  room.  That  will  be 
easily  done.  It  would  not  be  worth  while  to  keep 
another  bedroom.  In  fact  it  is  just  this — Popps — we 
have  nothing  but  ourselves  to  depend  on,  and  must 
live  on  as  little  as  possible,  till  we  see  how  matters 
turn  out."     Hester  finished,  bravely  enough. 

Popps  began  to  cry.  "  I'd  stay  with  you,  anyhow, 
Miss.  I  shouldn't  want  no  wages,  and  I  eat  more 
bread  than  meat,  and  you  couldn't  be  doin'  the  house- 
work if  you  was  a-teachin,  an'  if  it  aint  a  rude  thing 
to  say,  Miss  Hetty  I  could  sleep  on  the  floor  in  the 
10* 


226  GOLD    AMi    I'KOSS. 

other  corner  of  your  bedroom.     Don't  turn  me  away. 
Please  don't!" 

Hester  felt  something  moist  on  her  own  face. 
'•  We  dont  want  to  turn  you  away,"  she  said.  "  Don't 
say  that.  You  know  better.  You  are  a  good  girl. 
I  know  you  have  reason  to  be  grateful  to  my  sister 
Lizzie,  but  it  is  not  every  one  who  is  !  Only  you 
must  think  of  yourself,  too.  The  less  you  want  to 
think  of  yourself,  the  more  we  must  think  for  you. 
We  can't  let  you  ruin  yourself  for  us." 

"  'Tain't  no  such  thing  at  all,"  sobbed  Popps. 
"  It's  real  selfishness  of  mine,  that's  what  it  is.  I 
couldn't  bear  another  missis,  they're  so  masterful  ! 
And  here  am  I  a-doin  nothin,  but  think  o'  myself,  a- 
goin'  and  gettin'  married,  an'  just  wanting  a  comforta- 
ble place  to  finish  up  to  my  wedding-day,  where  I'd 
get  time  to  make  my  bits  o'  clothes,  and  may  be  a 
little  help  in  cutting  of 'em  out.  I'm  thinkin'  o'  noth- 
ing but  myself,  Miss  Hetty  ;  so  don't  you  go  for  to 
think  better  of  me  than  I  is." 

Hester  drew  a  long  breath.  Accustomed  to  the 
"  hopes  deferred,"  of  the  lengthy  engagements  too 
common  among  "  genteel  people,"  she  had  never 
thought  of  so  speedy  consummation  of  Popps'  court- 
ship. For  a  moment,  it  diverted  her  thoughts,  and 
she  asked  : 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  marry,  Popps  ?  " 

"  Why  that's  where  it  is,"  Popps  answered,  com- 
ing nearer,  in  the  excitement  of  reviving  hope.  "  It 
wasn't  to  be  till  next  summer  or  spring   at  nearest ; 


SPILT    SALT.  227 


but  now  Tom  wants  it  in  January.  He's  got  to  be 
foreman  at  his  place,  only  last  week  ; "  she  went  on 
proudly,  "  and  that  makes  a  difference  o'  money  that 
will  soon  mount  up.  He's  begun  storing  bits  o'  fur- 
niture, and  making 'em  an'  so  forth  some  little  while, 
an'  his  mother  she  nags,  and  says  they  crowd  up  and 
make  mucky  •  just  because  she  won't  make  herself 
agreeable  to  the  thought  o'  me.  Just  as  if  she 
thought  her  talk  might  stop  it,  instead  of  making  it 
come  on  all  the  faster  !  Oh,  I'd  give  anything  to  stay 
with  you,  Miss  Hester,  and  you'd  want  somebody  at 
the  moving,  for  movings  must  be  awful  work  !  " 

"  Of  course,  my  sister  will  decide,"  Hester  replied  ; 
not  without  a  secret  sigh  at  the  fear  lest  stern  neces- 
sity might  force  herself  to  set  aside  her  sister's  kindly 
influences.  "  But  I  fear  we  must  give  you  up,  Popps, 
even  for  that  little  time."' 

And  she  went  up  stairs.  The  change  had  fairly 
set  in.  Of  course  she  had  known  it  would.  But  the 
most  definite  future,  is  not  the  present.  Hope  and 
fear  alike  recognize  that.  But  now  the  first  axe  was 
laid  at  the  root  of  the  old  roof-tree.  Hester  had  left 
Popps  crying,  but  she  herself  felt  as  if  she  would  never 
cry  again. 

She  went  on  to  her  old  bedroom.  Sibyl  was  sit- 
ting there — a  most  unusual  thing  ;  but  Hester  did  not 
notice  that,  since  everything  would  be  unusual  hence- 
forth and  forever  more. 

Sibyl  was  reclining  in  an  old  easy-chair.  Hester 
was  never  in  the  habit  of  taking  much  observation  of 


228  ILD     W!>    DROSS. 


her  sister,  or  she  would  have  seen  that  her  face  was 
pale  and  hollow,  like  that  of  one  who  has  passed  a 
restless  night.  Presently  Sibyl  drew  a  long  long  sigh. 
But  fin  ling  that  did  not  elicit  any  remark  from  Hester, 
she  asked  : 

"  Did  you  hear  the  rats  all  night  ?  " 

"  No,  T  did  not,"  Hester  answered — "  Yes.  I 
think  I  did,  though.     But  I  was  only  awake  a  minute." 

Another  sigh.  "They  kept  on  all  night  up  and 
down  the  walls.  It  was  a  most  peculiar  noise. 
Scarcely  like  rats.     More  like  something  else." 

"  What  do  you  think  ?"  inquired  Hester,  ironically. 

Sibyl  did  not  answer  the  question,  but  said.  "  It 
was  just  the  same  for  a  week  or  two  before  dear  papa 

died." 

"  And  how  often  besides?"  asked  Hester. 

"  Dora  has  not  looked  very  well  for  these  last  few 
days,"  Sibyl  went  on,  still  regardless  of  the  question — 
"  She  is  working  too  hard,  the  darling  !  And  I  fear 
this  change  for  Lizzie,  she  is  so  wedded  to  everything 
here.  Some  hearts  break  very  quietly.  Oh  dear, 
dear,  dear." 

Hester  began  to  experience  a  restless  sensation. 

"The  salt  was  spilt  over  the  table  at  supper  last- 
night  and  I  don't  know  who  did  it,"  Sibyl  continued. 
"  That  is  a  bad  omen  (a  prolonged  sigh),  I'm  afraid 
something  is  going  to  happen,  Hetty.  I  used  to  hear 
the  death-watch  before  papa's  death  too,  and  I  actual- 
ly heard  it  again  last-night." 


SPILT    SALT.  229 


The  prior  suggestions  about  Lizzie,  tortured  Hetty 
into  observing;  "  Perhaps  it  will  be  you  this  time  !  " 

"  You  never  have  any  sympathy  Hester,"  said 
Sibyl ;  "  you're  always  engrossed  in  your  own  affairs — 
never  ready  to  feel  with  other  people." 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  pick  up  people's  fancy 
miseries,  just  when  they  want  to  throw  them  away  ;  and 
then  I  find  I  have  them  left  to  myself  when  their  first 
owners  have  forgotten  all  about  them,"  retorted  Hester, 
fiercely.  "  You  had  better  go  down  stairs  to  your 
breakfast,  Sibyl.  If  you'd  done  so  earlier,  you  would 
have  found  a  letter." 

"  A  letter  for  me  !  " — and  off  flew  Sibyl,  at  once 
oblivious  of  rats,  and  death-watches,  and  spilt  salt. 
Hester  did  not  follow  her  for  some  minutes,  and  when 
she  did,  the  letter  had  disappeared,  and  Sibyl  herself 
had  nearly  finished  her  breakfast,  and  left  the  table 
almost  as  soon  as  Hester  went  to  it. 

Sibyl  spent  the  morning  in  her  bedroom.  Hester 
going  about  her  household  duties,  caught  one  glimpse 
of  her.  She  was  busily  renovating  the  hood  of  her 
waterproof — re -binding  it  and  modelling  it  to  a  newer 
fashion.  The  sisters  did  not  come  in  contact  again, 
till  Sibyl  descended  to  the  drawing-room,  fully  equipped 
for  her  afternoon  journey. 

She  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  depart,  but  lingered 
before  the  mirror,  altering  the  set  of  her  bonnet. 

"  I  hate  this  mourning,"  she  observed,  it  doesn't 
suit  me  a  bit.     How  different  I  should  look  in  white  ! " 


230  '."I  I  1    AMI    Hk'>vs. 

and  she  sauntered  to  the  piano  and  rattled  over  a  few 
chords. 

'  Hush,"  said  Hester,  "  Dora  is  writing." 

"Do  I  interrupt  you,  Dora  ?  "  Sibyl  asked,  still 
going  on.  "  Dear  me,  at  that  rate  I  have  lost  my 
last  occupation  in  the  house — even  playing  to  you,  my 
deai  :"• 

Dora  good-naturedly  laid  down  her  pen,  and  rallied 
her  cousin  on  her  waterproof  and  umbrella  !  "  You 
are  determined  not  to  have  another  souse  to-day,1' 
said  she.  "  Although  the  sun  has  never  been  behind 
a  cloud  once  since  dawn." 

"  I  am  learning  caution  by  experience,"  she 
answered,  and  a  strange  and  sudden  darkness  fell 
upon  her  face  as  she  said  the  words. 

"  Where  is  Lizzie  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Gone  out ;  "  answered  Hester. 

"  Will  she  be  long  ?  "  Sibyl  inquired. 

"  She  said  she  thought  she  would  be  home  in  time 
for  tea."     Hester  answered. 

"  Oh,"  was  Sibyl's  only  answer ;  "  good-bye,  Dora. 
Good-bye,  Hester." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Hester,  standing  on  the  landing. 
She  waited  there,  as  we  are  all  so  oddly  apt  to  do,  to 
hear  the  street  door  close.  Generally  Sibyl  looked 
into  the  office  as  she  passed,  and  said  a  few  words  to 
Philip.     But  to-day  she  went  straight  out. 

And  Hester  went  up  and  down  the  house,  doing 
something  there  and  something  here.  She  utterly 
scorned    Sibyl's  vulgar   superstitions ;   the    coward's 


SPILT   SALT.  23I 


wretched  substitute  for  religion.  Yet  they  came  upon 
her  like  the  baleful  air  from  a  tomb.  They  made  the 
atmosphere  inimical  to  all  spiritual  bloom.  She 
sought  to  have  despised  them,  to  have  put  them  aside 
as  unworthy  a  moment's  thought.  And  so  she  did. 
Yet  God  knew  the  secrets  of  humanity,  when  by  the 
mouth  of  Ezekiel,  He  pronounced  the  doom  of  witches, 
"Because  with  lies  ye  have  made  the  heart  of  the 
righteous  sad,  whom  I  have  not  made  sad." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


TOO    LATE. 


,  \  LL  tli.it  afternoon,  a  young  lady  sat  in  one 
/  I  ^-' 
/  r-    .  :  the  small  picture-galleries  near  Pall  Mall. 

'  hf  V    She  had  paid  a   shilling  tor  admission,  and 
-,-x,  y^^j  ^  u]  |t>t-t  a  w atcrproof  an<]  an  umbrella  with 


the  cloak  keeper,  but  when  the  money-taker  suggested 
,  she  answered  that  it  did  not  matter. 

The  season  over,  and  London  growing  empty,  she 
had  found  nobody  in  the  room  when  she  entered,  but 
the  secretary,  in  readiness  to  answer  inquiries  about 
pric 

A:  firsts  she  made  a  pretence  of  looking  at  some  of 
the  paintings,  but  once  sitting  down  opposite  a 

lite-size  picture  oi  a  gaily  dressed  mediaeval  gentle- 
man chatting  with  a  pretty  woman  in  a  goldsmith's 
shop,  she  did  not  stir  again.  The  secretary  looked  at 
her  once  or  twice,  and  being  a  kindly  old  gentleman, 
by  no  means  oblivious  of  the  little  by-play  that  often 
went  on  beneath  his  eye,  concluded  that  she  was  wait- 
ing for  her  lover. 

But    the    afternoon  wore  on.  and  no  lover  came. 


TOO    LATE.  233 


,-ral  parties  of  sight-seers  passed  in  and  out. 
1  he  young  lady  only  roused  hersejf  a  little  when 
an  elegant  toilet  entered.     She  was  taking  so  minute 
an  observation  of  one  such,  a  graceful  Parisian  robe 
delicately  ruched  muslin,  over  a  green-silk  petti- 
coat, that  she  did  not  hear  a  fussy  old  gentleman  in- 
form his  gawky  daughter  that  this  life-size  picture  be- 
her,  represented  "  the  first  interview  of  Edward 
IV.  and  Jane  Shore."    But  at  last,  five  o'clock  struck, 
and  she  rose  listlessly  and  sauntered  out  to  fhe  street- 
She   turned   westward,  and  descending  the  steps 
from  Carlton  Terrace,  walked  slowly  up  the  Mall,  and 
Pimlico,  stopping  to  look  into  every  shop 
that  afforded  the  least  pretext  for  whiling  away  a  mo- 
ment.    So  she  went  on  slowly  to  the  Victoria  station, 
then,  and  ver.  dering  to  one  who  had  never 

travelled  from  it  before.  She  asked  a  porter  where 
she  could  take  a  ticket  for  Brighton,  and  followed  the 
direction  he  gave,  but  instead  of  going  to  the  booking- 
office,  found  the  waiting-room  nearest  to  it,  and  went 
in,  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  and  flecked  the 
dust  from  her  face  and  bonnet  with  her  handkerchief. 
There  was  a  girl  suffering  from  toothache  in  the  wait- 
ing room,  and  also  an  old  woman  with  a  band-box  tied 
up  in  a  blue  spotted  handkerchief,  who  was  pouring 
forth  the  profuse  sympathy,  in  the  shape  of  an  elaborate 
list  of  recipes,  strung  together  with  such  emphatic 
comment  as — "  You  try  that,  my  dear — I  never  knew 
it  to  fail.  It's  a  good  thing  to  put  a  toasted  fig  be- 
tween the  gum   and  the  cheek.     I've  tried  that,  and 


234  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


it's  easy  and  pleasant,  and  draws  off  the  pain  before 
you  can  say,  Jack  Robinson.  You  try  that  my  dear, 
you  won't  regret  it.  And  it's  a  good  thing  to  take  the 
steam  of  warm  water  into  your  mouth  out  of  a  funnel, 
or  a  jug  or  anything  you  can  get  for  that  matter,  my 
dear.  Don't  think  it's  too  simple  to  be  a  cure,  my 
clear,  but  try  it  and  it  will  pay  you  for  your  trouble. 
Highty — tighty,  but  she's  a  stuck-up  looking  piece  of 
goods;"  as  the  new  comer  vouchsafed-a  scornful  glance 
at  the  pair,  and  went  out  to  take  a  survey  of  the  plat- 
form— "  she  reads  her  novels,  and  plays  I'll  warrant, 
and  grizzles  and  frizzles  over  what  never  was,  or  will 
be  ;  but  she'd  think  it  beneath  her  to  offer  a  honest 
cure  for  the  reallest  pain  that  ever  was  in  the  world, 
that  she  would.  She'll  know  what  it  is  someday,  per- 
haps or  worse.     And  serve  her  right !  " 

Sibyl  sat  down  outside.  The  waiting-room  was 
too  close  for  her — there  are  times  when  we  become 
peculiarly  sensitive  to  closeness,  when  the  very  soul 
seems  to  gasp  for  breath,  some  enterprising  trader  had 
set  up  a  row  of  advertisements  all  alike,  aiming  to 
catch  the  public  attention  by  their  repetition,  and  as 
her  eye  went  from  one  to  the  other,  she  half  uncon- 
sciously repeated  the  old  charm,  slightly  varied — "  will 
he  marry  me  ?  will  he  not  ?  will  he  marry  me  ?  "  That 
brought  her  to  the  end  of  the  line,  and  she  was  fairly 
glad  that  the  miserable  oracle  was  in  her  favor. 

Does  a  man,  slipping  over  a  precipice  realize  that 
in  a  moment  he  will  be  in  a  crushed  mass  on  the 
stones  below  ?     Does  he  not  rather  in  the  very  act  of 


TOO    LATE.  235 


falling,  stretch  out  his  hand  for  some  pretty  flower 
with  an  odd  flashing  thought  that  it  will  be  a  beauti- 
ful memento  of  his  escape  ?  How  soon  does  the 
rider  yielding  himself  to  the  wild  energy  of  the  chase 
comprehend  that  his  steed  has  suddenly  over-mastered 
him,  and  is  bearing  him  on  against  his  will  ?  scarcely 
till  earth  and  sky  seem  to  flash  into  a  million  of 
rockets  and  the  horse  is  away  and  the.  rider  is — 
dead  ! 

At  last,  a  porter  came  along  with  a  truck  full  of 
luggage-  Dainty  aristocratic  luggage,  each  case  of 
the  best  make  and  newest  fashion.  Behind  walked 
a  tall  gentleman,  with  a  soft  travelling  cap  on  his 
head,  a  tall  fair  gentleman,  with  a  long  sweeping 
chestnut  beard,  and  a  face  stamped  with  the  sins  of  a 
class  rather  than  an  individual.  A  calm  polite  selfish 
cynical  face,  not  more  than  seven  or  eight-and-twenty, 
but  cool  and  assured,  with  the  quiet  assurance 
gathered  from  all  the  Ancestral  Sir  Rolands'  and  Sir 
Arthurs'  who  had  fibbed  and  seduced  and  fought  and 
conquered,  and  had  it  all  their  own  way,  since  the 
time  of  William  the  Norman.  He  was  looking  for 
somebody,  that  he  was  quite  sure  to  find,  and  as  if  he 
did  not  very  much  care  whether  he  did  or  no.  He  was 
early,  for  why  should  he  wait  for  a  train  ?  yet  not  late, 
lest  he  should  be  humbled  by  the  fact  that  the  train 
would  not  wait  for  him. 

As  he  advanced,  the  young  lady  arose  and  he  came 
forward  and  greeted  her  with  a  degree  of  impressment 
that  seemed  a  great  exertion  to  him. 


1^6  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  been  waiting  very  long?  " 
he  said. 

"  Yes  I  have,"  she  answered  ;  "  you  know  I  had  to 
leave  home  at  the  usual  time."  There  was  a  strange 
tremor  in  her  voice,  as  if  it  meant  more  to  her  than 
it  seemed  to  him  ;  as  if  a  little  pathos  was  fluttering 
behind  the  smooth  girlish  face,  so  hard  in  all  its 
bloom  and  softness. 

"  Oh  yes,  to  be  sure,"  he  replied  ;  "  poor  little 
Sylph,  she  must  be  nearly  tired  out  ;  never  mind,  here 
are  the  tickets  for  our  journey,  and  first-class  carriages 
are  a  very  comfortable  mode  of  transit  to  Paradise, 
eh  ?     For  it  is  to  be  Paradise,  you  know." 

The  girl  looked  more  than  half-doubtful.  If  there 
had  been  somebody  at  hand  with  one  persuasive 
word,  one  warning  look !  But  then  that  can  never 
be.  At  all  great  crises  of  our  lives,  we  are  left  to  our 
guardian-angels.  And  if  we  have  not  been  in  the  habit 
of  heeding  them  we  scarcely  know  their  voices  then ! 

"  She  is  quite  soiled  and  moiled  and  fagged,"  he 
went  on  in  the  petting  manner  we  use  to  a  child  or  an 
animal ;  "  soiled  and  moiled  and  fagged  ;  never  mind, 
she  will  never  be  soiled  or  moiled  or  fagged  anymore." 

The  doubtful  look  died  away.  This  is  what  she 
wanted. 

"  She  does  not  guess  what  I  have  in  my  breast- 
pocket— or  my  heart,"  he  continued. 

She  looked  up  interested  and  curious,  "  will  she 
guess  ? — can  she  guess  ? "  he  asked,  drawing  out  some 
tiny  thing  and  hiding  it  in  his  palm. 


TOO    LATE.  237 


Her  face  flushed  just  a  little — "  Is  it  the  wedding- 
ring  ? "  she  whispered. 

"  Good  girl.  It  is.  Now  take  off  your  glove — 
nobody  is  looking  and  what  does  it  signify  if  they  are? 
Put  it  on.  Now  she  is  my  wife,  as  much  as  if  twenty 
parsons  had  married  us,  is  she  not  ? " 

She  murmured  something,  which  he  understood 
rather  than  heard.  "  Do  you  doubt,  Sibyl  ? "  he 
asked,  and  there  was  a  sternness  in  the  soft  voice  like 
a  dagger  sheathed  in  silk. 

"  O  no,  no,"  she  answered,  hastily.  There  was  a 
covert  smile  on  the  calm  face  lifted  high  above  her 
bowed  head.  He  understood  her.  It  was  but  a  tour- 
nament between  the  two.  She  was  playing  for  his 
fortune  and  his  prospective  coronet  and  all  the  ease 
and  luxury  involved  therein.  He  was  playing — for  a 
new  toy  to  divert  the  ennui  of  patrician  idleness. 
The  stake  might  be  all  hers,  and  her  all,  and  the  odds 
ten  to  one  against  her.  But  as  it  was  her  own  will, 
he  did  not  feel  that  such  contest  was  unfair,  nor  did  his 
lazy  chivalry  call  upon  him  to  save  her  from  herself. 
He  had  spoken  sweetly,  and  she  had  answered  softly. 
He  did  not  bring  any  sentiment  into  the  affair,  why 
should  he  ? — she  brought  none.  He  knew  whatever 
other  odds  there  might  be,  their  hearts  stood  even.  He 
was  a  vain  man,  but  not  vain  enough  to  fancy  that  he 
himself  was  the  prize  that  was  worth  such  risks  to 
secure.  There  were  circles  where  he  was  proud  of  his 
graceful  stature  and  aristocratic  face  and  winning 
manners.     But  here  his   rank  and   wealth    were    his 


238  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


strong  points.  There  was  no  appeal  to  the  nobler 
instincts  which  were  not  so  utterly  dead  in  the  young 
aristocrat,  that  he  did  not  flatter  himself  upon  possess- 
ing them.  A  seducer  ?  He  would  have  smiled  serenely 
at  such  a  plain  word — coarse  people  with  broad  judg- 
ments might  so  write  him,  he  did  not  feel  himself  to  be 
such.  He  had  never  encouraged  a  silly  girl  of  inferior 
grade  to  fall  in  love  with  him.  He  fully  believed  that 
if  such  a  thing  had  happened  he  would  have  taken  no 
advantage  of  the  mistake.  But  this  girl  was  no  more  in 
love  than  he  was.  Each  had  an  end  in  view,  to  obtain 
which  they  must  play  the  hypocrite.  "  If  I  did  not, 
somebody  else  would  ;  "  he  thought,  and  handed  her 
into  a  first-class  carriage. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  said  he,  on  Saturday  even- 
ing, I  spoke  to  a  young  lady  in  the  Park  mistaking  her 
for  you.  Her  dress  was  exactly  like  yours  ;  she  must 
have  been  your  sister." 

"  Hester,  I  suppose,  but  (piqued)  I  am  sure  she  has 
quite  a  different  figure." 

"I  wonder  how  I  made  the  mistake,  for  I  ctould  see 
instantly,  that  she  is  quite  different  from  you,  entirely 
different." 

He  always  prided  himself  upon  uttering  an  irony, 
like  a  compliment. 

The  train  stopped  for  some  minutes  at  London 
Bridge.  It  would  not  stop  again  until  they  were  far 
on  their  journey  to  Brighton  ;  somebody  in  the  next 
carriage  had  a  concertina  and  was  playing  one  of  Men- 
delsshon's   '  Songs  without  words.'      The  girl    knew 


TOO    LATE.  -  239 


it.  It  brought  up  the  old  chintz-covered  drawing-room, 
the  little  dark-eyed  cousin  on  the  sofa,  the  two  sis- 
ters at  their  work.  By  this  time  they  must  be  won- 
dering where  she  was.  Popps  would  be  setting  the 
supper,  and  asking,  if  Miss  Sibyl  wasn't  coming  home. 
It  had  been  very  comfortable,  after  all.  But  then  it 
was  not  going  to  be  comfortable  any  more,  even  if  she 
had  stayed.  It  had  all  turned  into  daily  teaching,  and 
cheap  clothes  and  dreadfulness  !  whereas  now  she 
had  a  chance — Oh,  sitting  there,  she  suddenly  felt  what 
a  mere  chance  it  was  !  It  appalled  her.  Her  heart  failed 
not  at  the  memory  of  home,  not  under  the  sense  of  sin, 
not  with  tender  remorse  for  the  love  left  behind,  but 
at  the  risk  to  her  own  sheer  selfishness,  she  half 
started  up.     But  the  reientness  train  moved. 

"  You  are  not  very  brilliant  this  evening,  Made- 
moiselle," said  her  companion  ;  "  well  you  are  tired, 
rest  yourself,  and  leave  the  duty  of  my  entertainment  to 
myself  for  once,"  and  he  produced  an  evening  news- 
paper, and  was  soon  lost  in  the  mysteries  of  the  sport- 
ing article. 

Presently  she  rose  and  stood  in  the  doorway.  The 
city  lay  in  a  dun  mass  beneath  the  sunset  sky. 
Rather  a  stormy  sky,  with  lines  of  dark  clouds  across 
the  golden  glory.  There  would  be  rain  very  soon, 
she  stayed  watching,  till  the  houses  divided  into  broken 
groups  of  stunted  villas  and  the  flat  fields  gave  place 
to   the   undulating  sunny  hills.     Then  she  s:it   down. 

The  doubt  had  died  into  a  defiant  desperation,  she 
must  go  on  to  the  end.     It  was  too  late  to  turn  back  ! 


Too  late !     Too  late  ! 


CHAPTER  XX. 


LEFT  LETTERS. 


WONDER  what  has  become  of  Sybil  ?  " 
asked  Lizzie.  The  clock  struck  eight  as 
she  entered  the  drawing-room  where 
Hester,  Dora,  and  Mr.  Lewis  were  sit- 
ting. 

"  I  suppose  her  pupils  have  taken  her  somewhere," 
Hester  answered.  "  You  remember  she  was  kept  late 
one  evening  last  week." 

"  It  is  too  late  for  her  to  come  through  the  streets 
alone,"  said  Philip.  "  I  shall  go  and  fetch  her.  If 
we  miss  each  other,  Hetty,  will  you  tell  her  where  I 
am  gone,  and  that  I  shall  return  as  soon  as  possible  ?" 

"  Very  well,"  Hester  replied.  Hetty  was  acquir- 
ing a  habit  of  only  speaking  in  answers,  and  of 
making  even  those  as  short  and  plain  as  possible. 
She  never  chatted  now,  not  even  with  Lizzie.  There 
are  some  people,  who,  when  they  first  come  upon  a 
great  trial,  must  lock  it  up  and  even  hide  the  key. 
Well  and  good.  When  the  clay  of  opening  arrives, 
they  will  find  in  its  stead  a  great  treasure   of  experi- 


LEFT    LETTERS.  24 1 


ence  and  wisdom,  with  which  they  may  enrich  others 
without  impoverishing  themselves,  since  such  capital 
can  never  be  lent  without  receiving  interest  at  the 
rate  of  cent,  per  cent.  Only  alas  !  sometimes,  they 
forget  ever  to  open.  And  experience  and  wisdom, 
great  treasures  as  they  are,  are  not  the  heavenly 
treasure  which  neither  moth  nor  rust  can  corrupt. 
And  a  day  of  opening  must  come  at  last,  when  a 
hand  not  their  own,  shall  unwrap  the  shroud  of  silence, 
and  behold  the  experience  and  wisdom  rotted  and 
withered  into  misanthropy  and  selfishness  !  And  lo, 
they  shall  learn  these  were  not  their  own,  after  all  ! 
and  a  voice  shall  ask,  "  Wherefore  then  gavest  not 
thou  my  money  into  the  bank,  that  at  my  coming  I 
might  have  required  mine  own  with  usury  ? "  There 
is  a  time  to  keep  silence  and  a  time  to  speak  ;  "  He 
that  withholdeth  corn  the  people  shall  curse  him  ;  " 
but  since  people  need  wisdom  too  sorely  to  know 
their  need,  God  himself  shall  curse  him  that  with- 
holdeth that.  "  To  whom  much  is  given,  much  shall 
be  required,''  and  God  counts  his  special  disciplines 
as  very  much  indeed.  If  the  idle  words  we  speak 
shall  bring  us  to  judgment,  is  there  no  penalty  when 
we  refrain  from  speaking  good  words  ?  Verily  "  if 
Thou  Lord,  shouldest  mark  iniquities,  O  Lord,  who 
shall  stand?" — but  Thou  Thyself,  "hath  clothed  us 
with  the  garments  of  salvation  and  covered  us  with 
the  robe  of  righteousness." 

So  when  Philip  was  gone,  and  Lizzie   had  passed 
on  to  some  other  domestic  task,  there  was   no  sound 


242  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


in  the  drawing-room  except  the  scratching  of  Dora's 
pen,  Hester  was  diligently  reading  Jeremy  Taylor's 
"Holy   Living,*'   in    the   article  on  "Contentment," 

turning  over  page  after  page,  scarcely  remembering 
the  clauses  of  the  argument,  yet  imbibing  the  sublime 
cheerfulness  of  the  simple  Christian  philosopher. 
She  was  just  nearing  the  end  of  the  subject,  having 
turned  over  the  few  remaining  pages,  and  calculated 
that  she  should  have  time  to  finish  it  before  Philip  and 
Sibyl  could  possibly  return,  when  a  cab  came  tearing 
up  the  road,  and  in  less  than  a  second  the  door-bell 
rang  an  alarm  peal.  Hetty  flew  into  the  hall.  She 
could  not  have  told  what  she  had  expected —but  it 
was  certainly  nut  to  see  Philip  alone,  with  wild  eyes 
flaring  in  a  face  of  ghastly  pallor. 

"  She's  never  been  there  to  day !  "  he  cried.  "  O 
God  !  Oh,  Hester  !  "  and  sat  down  blank  and  be- 
numbed. 

Lizzie  and  Dora  and  Popps,  and  the  charwoman 
were  all  on  the  spot  in  a  moment.  But  Hester  paid 
the  cabman  directly.  It  struck  her  that  he  would 
charge  for  waiting.  He  asked  her  to  consider  that 
the  gentleman  had  been  driven  "  werry  fast,"  and  she 
gave  him  an  extra  six-pence,  and  dismissed  him. 

"Something  has  happened  to  her,"  sobbect  Lizzie. 
'"  Oh,  Mr.  Lewis,  if  you  had  thought  to  stop  and  ask 
the  people  at  St.  George's  Hospital  1  But  how  could 
you  think,  poor  fellow?" 

"  They    wondered    we  were  not  alarmed  before," 


LEFT    LETTERS.  243 


said  Philip,  half-stupidly  ;  "  they  wondered  we  should 
suppose  they  had  kept  her." 

"Why  they  kept  her  only  last  week  ! "  exclaimed 
Dora ;  "  did  not  you  remind  them  of  that,  Mr.  Lewis  ? 
Did  you  forget  it  ?  " 

Philip  shook  his  head.  He  had  remembered  only 
too  bitterly.  But  in  some  forlorn  hope  that  would 
live  on  in  his  great  dumb  tenderness,  he  had  hidden 
the  treachery  from  strange  eyes,  and  in  the  first  agony 
of  his  return  it  had  receded  into  the  background  of 
his  own  mind.  But  now  it  started  forward  afresh,  in 
all  its  damning  deformity.  And  he  looked  helplessly 
around  from  one  face  to  another,  and  become  aware 
amid  all  the  trouble  and  grief,  each  felt  a  separate 
pang  of  pity  for  him  who  must  drink  the  bitterest 
dreg  of  this  fresh  well  of  Marah.  And  he  seemed 
suddenly  to  feel  Sibyl's  gloved  hand  on  his  arm,  and 
to  see  the  blooming  beauteous  face  raised  to  his  own. 
Oh,  it  had  always  seemed  such  a  sweet  face  to  him  ! 
And  there  was  a  heavy  lump  in  his  throat  that 
wouldn't  go  down.  And  he  bowed  his  head  in  his 
hands,  and  great  sobs  came,  and  scalding  tears  fell 
hard  and  fast  between  his  fingers.  There  are  some 
sorrows  which  manliness  cannot  bear  manfully. 

They  were  all  frightened.  Lizzie  and  Popps  were 
crying  themselves.  Dora  looked  white  and  cold. 
Hester  turned  to  the  charwoman.  A  thought  had 
flashed  into  her  mind,  and  strangely  enough,  she 
seemed  to  read  a  response  in  Mrs.  Edwardes  ashen 
face. 


244  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

"  Don't  break  down  yet,  Philip,"  she  said ;  as 
gently  as  ever  she  could,  for  it  is  not  easy  to  speak 
gently  when  tears  are  rushing  forward,  only  repressible 
by  iron  bars  of  sharpness  and  austerity.  But  the 
Christian  name  which  she  had  rarely  used,  made 
amend  for  a  queer  rasp  which  she  could  not  quite 
banish  from  her  voice.  There  are  times  when  a 
Christian  name  is  like  a  caress.  It  puts  the  two  so 
close  together.  There  may  be  some  mistake.  It 
may  be  all  explainable.  We  must  find  out  everything 
as  soon  as  we  can.  I  think  I  had  better  go  to  her 
room,  and  see  if  we  can  find  anything  there.  Don't 
you  think  so  Philip  ?  " 

The  direct  appeal,  superfluous  as  it  seemed  did 
Philip  good.  It  diverted  emotion  into  action,  and  he 
also  felt  the  soothing  influence  of  a  sympathy  which 
did  not  forget  his  strongest  right  in  the  lost  one. 

"  Yes,  go,"  he  said,  half  lifting  his  wet,  convulsed 
face.  Hester  never  forgot  it.  God  forgive  her  for 
whatever  might  be  harsh  and  hasty,  but  had  Sibyl 
stood  before  her  at  that  moment,  she  might  have 
heard  some  old-fashioned  Saxon  and  scriptural  lan- 
guage. 

She  went  up  stairs  leaving  the  rest  standing  just 
as  they  were.  But  Mrs.  Edwardes  followed  her,  but 
did  not  overtake  her  till  she  reached  the  highest 
landing,  and  then  stood  behind.  Sibyl's  door  was 
closed — and  locked  ! 

"  Oh  can  she  be  inside  !  "  cried  the  charwoman,  so 
earnestly  that   it   started  Hester,  who  had  shrewdly 


LEFT    LETTERS.  245 


and  silently  guessed  a  very  different  explanation — that 
her  sister  had  wished  to  keep  out  all  observation, 
until  such  time  as  suspicion  should  be  fairly  aroused, 
and  she  could  have  gained  a  start.  Did  such  a 
thought  show  an  unkindly  or  evil  mind  ?  Surely  not. 
If  a  man  who  missed  some  property  knew  an  accom- 
plished thief  had  been  in  his  room,  would  it  be  very 
uncharitable  if  he  had  certain  suspicions.  And  Hes- 
ter had  her  own  estimate  of  Sibyl's  character  founded 
on  the  close  acquaintanceship  of  more  than  twenty 
years. 

"  Xo — no,  she  is  not  there,"  answered  Hester, 
"  but  we  must  fetch  somebody  to  break  open  the 
door." 

"  I  can  do  it,  I  can  do  it,"  said  Mrs.  Edwardes, 
"  don't  let  us  lose  one  moment."'  And  before  Hester 
could  declare  that  she  was  unable  for  the  task,  it  was 
done.  Done,  as  it  seemed,  without  an  effort.  Mrs. 
Edwardes  must  have  been  a  strong  woman,  for  strength 
is  strength,  whether  it  be  in  the  muscles  or  the  will  ! 

There  was  a  sign  of  confusion  in  the  empty  cham- 
ber. Only  by  the  moonlight,  Hester  could  see  a 
drawer  standing  open,  and  from  it,  her  quick  eye  miss- 
ed a  little  painted  case  where  Sybil  kept  her  ornaments. 
Without  waiting  for  any  direction,  Mrs.  Edwardes 
took  a  candle  from  the  mantle,  and  lit  it. 

"Here's  a  letter,"  said  the  charwoman,  picking  one 
from  the  rug. 

Hester  took  it.  It  was  in  the  envelope  whose  su- 
perscription she  had  thought  so  like  her  own. 


246  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


"  That  came   this  morning,"  she  observed,  ponder- 


ing. 


"  Read  it,  Miss  Hester,"  urged  Mrs.  Edwardes. 
Hester  shook  her  head,  decisively.  "  If  it  must  be 
opened,  Mr.  Lewis  must  do  it,"  she  said. 

"  She  would  not  have  left  it  lying  about,  if  she  had 
cared  for  it,"  said  the  charwoman,  wailingly. 

But  Hester  kept  it  folded  in  her  hand.  And  they 
both  looked  around  the  room  again.  It  came  oddly  to 
Hester's  memory,  that  she  had  once  or  twice  surpris- 
ed her  sister  bending  over  the  drawer  of  the  toilet- 
mirror,  and  that  Sybil  had  shut  it  with  a  startled  jerk. 
It  might  seem  unlikely  that  anything  possessing  an 
unlawful  interest  should  be  deposited  in  a  place  with- 
out a  lock.  But  the  habits  of  the  family  were  such 
that  none  of  them  would  think  of  opening  any  such 
depository  of  the  others'  possessions,  unless  they  had 
the  right  of  mutual  use.  Lizzie  and  Hester,  had  all 
things  in  common,  and  had  they  wished  to  keep  a  se- 
cret from  each  other,  must  have  taken  certain  precau- 
tions ;  but  nobody  had  occasion  to  interfere  in  Sybil's 
apartment.  And  so  strong  was  Hester's  sense  of  im- 
plied trust,  that  the  color  flew  into  her  face,  now  that 
she  felt  it  was  her  bounden  duty  to  make  search. 

It  was  a  disorderly  little  drawer,  filled  with  broken 
combs,  and  scraps  of  torn  paper,  but  just  one  corner 
was  kept  clear  for  a  photogragh.  It  was  ihe  portrait 
of  an  officer  in  uniform,  with  a  fair,  haughty  face,  and 
long  whiskers.  For  half  a  second,  Hester  asked  her- 
self, where  she  knew  that  countenance.     Then  she  re- 


LEFT    LETTERS.  247 


membered  the  stranger  who  had  spoken  to  her,  in  the 
park,  only  the  Saturday  before. 

"  'Tis  he,  cried  Mrs.  Edwardes,  looking  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  Hester,  fiercely  facing  her  com- 
panion, with  a  sudden  and  sharp  distrust  expressing 
itself  in  every  feature. 

"  He — who — T  mean  somebody  she  has  gone  away 
with,"  groaned  the  woman,  sitting  down  on  the  edge 
of  the  bed.    "  Oh,  God  in  Heaven  ! — God  in  Heaven  !" 

Hester  caught  sight  of  a  paper  beneath  a  toilet- 
bottle.  It  was  simply  a  sheet  of  note  paper,  not  even 
folded,  and  there  was  writing  on  it — Sybil's  writing, 
large,  light,  and  straggling.  Hester's  breath  stopped 
just  a  moment,  she  forgot  the  lie  concerning  her  delay 
the  week  before,  she  forgot  the  missing  jewel-case,  and 
the  mysterious  portrait  in  the  drawer,  and  she  had  a 
queer  memory  of  years  before,  when  she  and  Sibyl  used 
to  go  to  school  together  hand  in  hand;  and  of  a  doll 
that  Sibyl  once  gave  her  (she  coaxed  a  new  one  from 
her  father  the  next  week  on  that  very  pretext).  There 
was  a  beating  in  her  ears,  and  a  mist  before  her  eyes, 
but  they  passed  and  she  read  : 

"  I  have  gone  away  of  my  own  accord.  Perhaps 
you  will  hear  from  me  in  a  very  few  days.  But  if  not, 
take  no  trouble  about  me.  Anyhow  I  shall  be  better 
off  than  I  deserve.  I  hope  Mr.  Lewis  will  soon  forget 
me,  I  was  not  worthy  of  him,  and  I  hope  he  will  find 
somebody  who  is.  Thank  you  all  for  the  much  kind- 
ness you  have  wasted  on  me.     Perhaps  it  will  not  be 


248  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

QUITK  wasted  after  all.  You  will  all  think  I  have  no 
feelings.  Well  !  think  anything  you  like,  which  will 
make  you  feel  me  to  be  a  good  riddance,  and  prevent 
you  from  fretting.  I  shall  remember  you,  even  if  the 
worst  comes  to  the  worst.  And  now,  good-bye  all. 
I  suppose  I  must  not  write,  God  bless  you.     Only 

'  Fare  thee  well,  and  if  forever. 
Then  forever,  fare  thee  well.'  " 

Hester  almost  crushed  the  paper  up  in  her  hand, 
and  there  was  something  in  her  face  which  made  Mrs. 
Edwardes  start  up  and  catch  her  dress  imploringly, 
saying  incoherently : 

"Don't,  don't — at  least  think  as  kindly  of  her  as 
you  can.  You  can  never  know  all  of  it.  There  are 
wheels  within  wheels.  It's  only  God's  grace,  my  dear 
— if  there  is  a  God — and  I  know  there  is.  And  as  for 
hell — if  you  only  knew  what  it  is,  you  could  pity  her, 
Miss  Hester." 

Hester  freed  her  dress  with  an  impatient  pull. 
"  I  prefer  to  keep  my  pity  for  those  she  has  disap- 
pointed and  shamed,"  she  said,  sternly ;  and  I  find 
none  over.  "  Let  us  go  down  stairs ;  something  may 
be  done  to-night,  perhaps." 

She  found  the  others,  forlornly  waiting  where  she 
had  left  them.  Only  Popps  had  stolen  away  to  the 
kitchen  to  answer  a  ring  which  she  knew  to  be  Tom's. 
Nobody  questioned  Hester  as  she  came  down  stairs. 
But  Philip  raised  his  head  in  expectation. 

"Nothing  has  happened  to  her,"  Hester  said, 
quietly,  going  close  to  him,  but  keeping   her  three 


LEFT    LETTERS.  249 


wretched  findings  in  her  own  hand.  "  She  has  left  a 
note  behind  her.  She  has  gone  away  of  her  own 
accord." 

"  But  doesn't  she  say  why — or  where  ?  "  he  cried, 
starting  up  ;  "  can't  you  find  a  clue  ? " 

"  Sit  down,  Philip,"  said  Hester,  with  her  hand  on 
his  arm.  "  I  have  also  a  letter  which  came  to  her 
this  morning,  that  may  be  of  service.  I  have  not 
read  it  yet.  I  meant  that  you  should  read  it  first. 
But  you  must  not,  now.  She  is  nothing  to  you,  any- 
more. God  help  you,  Philip,  dear.  And  he  will — 
somehow ! " 

Philip  stood  dumb  for  a  minute.  Then  he  burst 
out :  "  I  can't  believe  it.  You  were  always  harsh  to 
her,  and  you've  put  a  wrong  construction  on  her 
words.  Let  me  see  her  note,  myself!  I  will!  I 
must ! " 

Hester  laid  it  on  the  table.  His  eye  swept  up  and 
down  the  scrawling  lines  with  frantic  rapidity.  Then 
he  laughed — lightly,  terribly.  "  There's  nothing  there,'* 
he  said,  defiantly.  "  Is  that  all  ?  Have  you  no  more 
fine  evidence  against  your  sister  ?  " 

She  had  the  protrait  in  her  hand,  and  its  strangely 
coincident  history  on  her  lip,  but  she  had  mercy  on 
his  madness  and  misery.  She  slipped  the  photograph 
into  her  pocket,  and  let  his  wild  questions  pass  unan- 
swered ;  only  bringing  forward  the  other  letter,  with 
the  simple  comment :  "  Perhaps  this  may  be  some- 
thing, and  handed  it  to  Lizzie,  so  that  the   sister  and 


250  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

the  lover   might  read  it  together,  while  Mrs.  Edwardes 
slunk  away  to  the  kitchen. 

The  letter  had  neither  date  nor  address,  and  the 
handwriting  was  strong  and  marked,  but  with  indica- 
tions of  that  haste  which  arises  not  from  pressure  of 
time,  but  from  rapid  mental  movement.  It  was 
headed  "  To  Miss  Sibyl  Capel,"  and  began  : 

"  Dear  young  lady  : 

'•  If  you  know  partly  who  it  is  that  writes  to  you,  you 
would  be  very  annoyed  and  angry,  but  if  you  knew  alto- 
gether who  it  is,  it  would  be  a  far  stronger  warning  than 
that  which  I  pray  to  give  you.  But  I  can't  tell  you 
this,  and  yet  without  it,  I  don't  know  how  to  make  my 
warning  strong  enough  !  There  is  somebody  who  you 
think  loves  you.  But  there  is  a  love  which  is  like  that 
of  the  hawk  for  the  sparrow  which  it  devours.  Or 
rather  like  the  serpent  for  the  dove  which  it  fascinates 
to  destruction.  His  honied  words  are  so  sweet,  his 
compliments  so  graceful !  Why  !  honest  criticism  from 
a  true  lover  should  be  more  pleasing  to  your  ears. 
If  you  were  like  your  sisters,  you  would  feel  this  with- 
out being  told.  A  true  woman  knows  a  false  man  by 
instinct — at  least  I  think  so — I  don't  know — for  I  was 
not  one  myself!  I  know  the  road  you  are  on.  I 
know  the  end  of  it.  I  ought  to  be  the  last  one  to 
reproach  you  !  God  knows,  the  very  last !  I  only 
do  it,  in  love.  There  is  a  reproach  that  spurs  virtue. 
You  will  say  '  this  is  a  raving  mad  woman.'  Perhaps 
I  am.  Do  you  wish  to  be  the  same  ?  I  dont  want  to 
justify  myself.  I  couldn't  if  I  did.  But  still  you 
haven't  the  excuses  that  I  fancied  I  had.  I  can't  think 
what  is  wanted  to  make  your  life  happy.  The  devil 
can't  find  despair  in   you,   and  that  is  the  instrument 


LEFT    LETTERS.  25  I 


upon  which  he  can  best  play  his  favorite  airs.  It 
seems  to  me  that  you  can  want  nothing.  You  have 
love  and  health,  and  a  busy  life  before  you.  You 
don't  know  what  it  is  when  life  is  solitary  confinement, 
your  soul  sickened  with  its  own  dead  hopes  fastened 
round  it.  But  better  dead  hopes  in  all  their  corrup- 
tion, than  a  living  sin,  gnawing,  gnawing !  I  don't 
want  to  make  you  unhappy  with  my  words.  Things 
may  be  different  from  what  i  think.  That  is  the  worst 
of  it,  we  cannot  advise  or  warn  or  chide,  except  doc- 
tors trying  to  cure  a  disease  they  do  not  know  !  But 
just  reflect  on  this— Live  so  that  if  the  day  come, 
when  you  have  a  daughter  of  your  own,  you  will  not 
have  to  speak  to  her  of  yourself  as  I  have  spoke  of 
myself  to  you  this  day.  And  now,  God  help  you,  and 
keep  another  sin  from  my  door  ! 

"  There  !  "  cried  Philip  ;  "  there  is  some  miserable 
creature  mixed  up  in  it ;  jealous  one  can  easily  see, 
and  I  daresay  without  any  cause  !  Nobody  knows 
what  may  have  happened  with  such  a  vindictive  ma- 
niac as  that.  And  yet  Sibyl  ought  to  have  shown  me 
this  letter.  I  don't  know,  either.  It  was  more  natural 
for  innocence  to  treat  such  insult  with  silent  con- 
tempt !  " 

"  I  shall  go  to  Mr.  Fiske,"  said  Hester.  "  Perhaps 
he  will  think  of  something  we  can  do." 

"  I  must  do  it — I  will !  "  exclaimed  Philip.  "  I 
trust  her  implicitly,  and  I  will  not  behave  as  if  I  doubt 
her  the  moment  a  little  mystery  arises." 

Hester  paused ;  she  knew  her  sister,  and  she 
knew  Philip  ;  and  he  knew  also  the  secret  she  was 
keeping  from  him.     She  could  not  tell   it  yet.     Let 


252  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


him  grow  used  to  misery  first.  Give  him  time  for  fear 
to  creep  in.  Blame  her  not,  because  the  glorious  blos- 
som of  so  perfect  a  faith,  planted  in  such  stony  ground, 
seemed  too  fair  for  her  hand  to  root  up.  And  yet  she 
could  not  let  him  humble  himself  still  lower  before  this 
base  clay  idol — could  not  let  the  honest  lover  seek  and 
pursue  the  false  woman,  fled  with  her  paramour.  But 
how  could  she  put  him  off?  Where  woman's  feelings 
are  keen,  her  wit  is  quick. 

"Stay  here,  Philip,"  she  pleaded.  "I  am  only 
going  to  ask  for  advice,  not  for  tidings.  They  are  far 
more  likely  to  come  here  while  I  am  away.  You  had 
better  stay  on  the  spot,  than  leave  Dora,  and  poor 
Lizzie  alone.11 

"Oh  yes,  do  stay  with  us,"  urged  Lizzie;  though 
whether  she  took  the  cue  in  its  whole  meaning,  who 
shall  say  ? 

Hester  ran  off  for  her  bonnet  and  cloak,  but  she 
went  down  to  the  kitchen  a  moment  before  she  started. 
In  remembrance  of  the  anonymous  letter,  she  wished 
to  give  Popps  a  charge  to  take  particular  notice  if  any 
stranger  loitered  about  the  house. 

Popps  and  Tom  Moxon  were  standing  in  front  of 
the  fire,  whispering.  The  young  man  started  back, 
abashed  at  his  own  presence  in  such  hour  of  trouble. 
Hester  gave  her  instructions  to  the  girl,  and  then  glanc- 
ing around  the  gloomy  apartment,  dimly  lit  by  one  tal- 
low candle,  asked  if  Mrs.  Edwardes  was  gone. 

"  She's  only  gone  out  for  a  minute,  she  said,  Miss,'' 


LEFT   LETTERS.  253 


Popps  replied.  "  I  don't  know  what  for,  I  thought 
maybe  you'd  sent  her  yourself." 

"  No,  I  did  not."  Hester  replied.  "  But  when 
she  comes  back,  keep  her  here  for  the  night.  Tell 
her  we  may  want  her."  But  another  reason,  though 
very  indefinite,  floated  in  Hester's  mind. 

Dora  was  in  the  hall,  with  the  street  door  open. 
"  It's  such  a  dreadful  night,  Hetty,"  she  said.  "  The 
rain  has  just  begun  to  pour  down  in  torrents,  and  the 
wind  is  blowing  frightfully.  Hetty,  I  can't  bear  to  see 
you  thus.     Let  me  go  with  you." 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense,  dearie,"  she  said,  brightly. 
"  You  on  this  rough  stormy  night !  The  very  idea  ! 
It  won't  hurt  me.  I'm  neither  butter  nor  sugar,  neither 
soft  nor  sweet  ?  But  I  know  what  you  mean,  darling," 
she  added,  "  and  it's  nice  to  have  you  say  so,  only 
don't  trouble  yourself  about  me,  it's  all  in  the  way  of 
one's  life,  you  know  ! 

And  tho'  her  umbrella  was  almost  dripping  before 
she  reached  the  bottom  of  the  steps,  yet  there  she 
turned  round  to  throw  back  another  nod  to  Dora, 
standing  in  the  bright  framework  of  the  gas-lit  hall. 
Her  face  turned  to  the  dark  street,  she  could  not 
catch  the  comfort  of  the  love  beaming  from  it,  but  she 
cried  a  warning  "  go  in,  go  in,"  and  then  scudded 
away  through  the  storm.  "  That's  Miss  Hetty,  off," 
said  Popps  to  Tom,  as  they  heard  Dora  close  the 
door,  and  return  to  the  parlor  "  if  she's  a-going  to  kill 
herself  over  Miss  Sibyl,  it's  a  sending  of  good  money 
after  bad,  that's  all.     And  why  couldn't  you  ask  if 


J 54  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


you  would  be  any  use,  Tom,  instead  of  standing 
struck  like  a  gawky?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  whether  it  would  be  right,"  Tom 
answered  :  "  I'm  only  a  working-man.'' 

Popps  snuffled.  "Don't  talk  about  pride,  Tom," 
said  she  ;  "  there  never  was  nobody  so  stuck  up  as 
you  are.  What  would  you  say  if  there  was  a  duke 
always  a-stopping  himself  and  saying,  "  I'm  a  duke?" 
It's  the  slime  thing,  Tom.  You  make  your  tool- 
basket  as  big  a  nuisance  as  old  Mrs.  Ganders'  crest, 
that  she  would  always  embroider  on  her  six-penny 
handkerchiefs,  when  she  was  as  blind  as  a  bat,  and 
did  it  so  that  you  couldn't  see  what  it  was,  and  might 
take  it  for  anything  you  liked,  which  perhaps  did  as 
well !  " 

"  You  don't  seem  to  take  your  young  lady's  de- 
parture much  to  heart,  Bess,"  said  Tom. 

"Well,  I  can't  help  it,"  she  returned.  "That's 
just  what  Mrs.  Edwardes  said  to  me ;  says  I  back. 
"  She  wasn't  my  young  lady.  You  can't  expect  a 
whole  family  made  to  your  taste.  You  likes  some, 
and  the  rest  you  puts  up  with."  Says  I  too,  "If  I 
knew  where  she  was  a-gone  to,  I'd  go  and  catch  her 
back  for  them  as  wants  her,  which  isn't  me,  mind." 
Says  Mrs.  Edwardes,  "  I  can't  think  how  you  can  be 
so  spiteful  to  an  amiable  young  lady."  Says  I  again. 
"  There's  some  amiable  people  as  makes  it  precious 
hard  for  other  folks  to  be  amiable.  And  it's  often 
the  sour  things  that  keep  others  sweet."  Says  I, 
"You  wouldn't  care  much   for  fish   the   second  day, 


LEFT    LETTERS. 


255 


without  vinegar,  Mrs.  Edwardes."  And  to  that  she 
answers  nothing,  but  puts  on  her  shawl  and  goes  out 
in  all  the  torrents  of  rain.  There's  a-many  people 
who  can't  see  a  truth  till  you  shove  it  right  under 
their  nose,  and  who  can  be  always  doin'  that,  though 
please  God,  I  will,  whenever  I  get  a  chance  !  And 
now  you'll  go  home,  Tom,  for  I've  been  hindered  in 
my  work,  and  the  house  isn't  going  to  look  as  if  the 
world  had  come  to  an  end,  because  she  has  took  her- 
self off.     So  we'll  say,  good-night." 

And  so  Tom  went  out.    Mrs.  Edwardes  passed  in, 
dripping  and  breathless. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


DARKNESS. 


a  wild  and  miserable  night. 


T  was  indeed 
The  people  had  clone  their  marketing  so 
quickly  that  even  the  flaring  shops  of  the 
Gray's  Inn  Road  stood  desolate,  the  attend- 
ants withdrawn  inside,  and  the  doorsteps  only  haunted 
here  and  there,  by  some  forlorn  woman,  whose  earthly 
cares  centered  in  the  comparative  relationship  of 
ounces  and  pence.  Hester  sped  on,  unheeding  and 
unheeded — except  by  one  idle  butcher-lad,  who  said 
he  was  sorry  to  see  her  out  by  herself — until  she 
crossed  the  wide  dirty  road,  and  struck  into  one  of 
the  quiet  hilly  streets  on  the  east.  She  slackened 
her  pace  just  a  little,  for  she  was  almost  breathless, 
and  the  darkness  and  solitude  seemed  friendly  instead 
of  fearful.  -But  the  street  was  not  so  lonely  as  it 
seemed.  A  woman  rose  up  from  a  dark  portico,  and 
begged  Hester  "  for  the  love  of  God,  to  give  a  thought 

some 
husband  and  child  were  there, 
the  gloomy  recess.     "  He  had  come  out  of  hospital 


to  some  who  had   no  roof  over   their    heads.     Her 

"  she  said,  indicating 


DARKNESS.  257 


only  a  week  ago,  after  a  long  illness,  and  she  had  to 
sell  every  stick  they  had,  and  he  had  been  on  the 
tramp  for  work  ever  since  and  could  get  nothing,  and 
their  landlord  had  put  them  into  the  street  at  last." 
At  first,  Hester  hurried  on.  The  woman  did  not 
follow  with  "my  lady's,  and  May  Heaven  forever  bless 
you ! "  of  a  practiced  beggar.  Hester  pondered. 
Surely  the  six-pence  in  her  pocket  was  her  own  yet. 
A  week  or  two  more,  and  their  poverty  might  be  so 
definite,  that  she  would  not  have  the  honest  right  to 
spare  even  a  penny.  She  would  give  this  once — 
perhaps  it  might  be  for  the  last  time.  She  turned 
back.  The  woman  was  standing  under  a  lamp-post. 
"  Oh,  miss,"  she  said,  as  Hester  fumbled  for  her 
purse;  "  it's  very  kind  of  you  to  pity  us,  for  you  can't 
have  much  idea  how  hard  life  goes  with  some  folks." 
Hester   went   on    again,    until    she    reached    Mr. 


Fiske's  abode,  which  she  found  without  much  difficulty, 
having  been  duly  informed  by  that  gentleman,  that 
he  lodged  "  in  a  private  house,  between  a  tavern  and 
a  chemist's."  Hester  knocked,  and  then  rang  all  the 
three  bells  in  rotation,  which  process  at  last  produced 
the  maid  of  all  work  in  the  last  stage  of  blacking — 
bottle — and — patent — dubbing. 

"Mr.  Fiske?"  echoed  this  attendant;  "are  you 
from  any  body  as  has  been  before  ?  cos,  I've  told  him 
all  about  that  there,  and  three  pair  o'  stairs  over 
again  for  nothing,  is  no  joke,  of  a  Saturday  night." 

Hester  explained  that  nobody  had  been  before  on 


258  i>    AND    DROSS. 

her  business,  and  that  it  was  very  urgent,  and  that  she 
wished  to  see  Mr.  Fiske  himself,  if  it  were  possible. 

'■  Well,  I'll  see,'1''  responded  the  reluctant  damsel ; 
"but  I  shouldn't  tlu/ik  you'll  be  able  to  go  in  his 
room,  for  he  always  keeps  it  like  a  pig-stye  with  papers 
and  rubbish,  and  sets  a-writin'  in  his  short  sleeves. 
But  you  can  wait  in  the  passage,  if  you  like,  only 
there's  been  a  lot  o'  paraffin  oil  spilt — somewheres 
about  here — something  else  for  me  to  clean  up,  but 
there's  always  something  else,  so  that  ain't  anything 
new — only,  you'd  better  look  out  after  your  tails." 

Hester  meekly  drew  her  skirts  about  her,  and 
directed  the  girl  to  inform  Mr.  Fiske  that  it  was  a 
Miss  Capel  who  wished  to  see  him,  and  that  she  was 
very  sorry  to  disturb  him  at  such  an  hour,  but — 

"  Oh  you  needn't  mind  that,  Miss,"  the  girl  an- 
swered ;"  day  and  night  is  much  the  same  to  him— 
the  way  he  muc,ks  the  candles  settin'  up,  and  then 
laving  in  bed  in  the  morning,  a-turning  all  my  work 
topsy-turvey; "  and  so  she  left  Hester  to  wait  in  the 
dark. 

Hetty  could  hear  her  shuffling  step  mounting  on 
and  on,  till  she  passed  the  region  of  stair-carpet  and 
clumped  on  over  bare  boards,  and  shook  open  a 
rheumatic  door,  and  grumbled  out  something  which 
Hetty  lost,  though  she  did  not  lose  the  high  clear 
voice  that  answered,  eagerly  : 

"  A  lady — a  Miss  Capel — Capel,  do  you  mean  ?  " 
Are  you  sure  it  is  herself?  Not  a  servant?  Dear, 
dear,  this   tie  will  never  get  right.     What  sort  of  a 


DARKNESS.  259 

lady  is  she  ?  What  age  ?  And  what  a  dreadful  thing 
for  her  to  be  out;  Where  is  she !  What. is  she  doing  ? 
standing  in  the  passage — oh  dear,  dear  !  And  she 
can't  come  up  here.  There's  not  a  chair  empty. 
Ask  her  into  the  parlor,  like  a  good  girl,  and  I'll 
make  it  all  right  with  your  mistress.  Tell  her  I'll  be 
with  her  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye — if  this  tie  would 
only  fasten  !  Go  away, — I'll  get  on  better  when  you 
are  not  staring." 

With  a  poor  attempt  at  civility,  the  ungracious 
damsel  conducted  Hetty  into  a  small  stuffy  room, 
strongly  odorous  of  tobacco,  where,  when  her  fourth 
attempt  at  match-lighting  was  successful,  the  candle 
displayed  some  very  remarkable  china  on  the  mantel, 
and  two  crayon  heads  in  gilt  frames,  sufficient  to 
scare  all  the  bachelor-lodgers  from  any  attempt  to 
allure  such  beauty  to  displace  even  their  old  land  lady. 
In  the  dark,  Hetty  had  drearily  dropped  down  upon 
a  dingy,  starved  sofa,  but  the  old  mental  activity 
would  have  its  way,  and  she  rose  to  look  at  these 
works  of  art.  Under  one,  was  written  in  pale  Italian 
hand  :  ''Julia  Figgins  Christmas  vacation,  1850,"  and 
at  the  other  corner,  a  flourishing  mercantile  hand  had 
added:  "Her  Last — died  New  Year's  Day  185 1." 
This  hireling  house  was  somebody's  home  after  all. 
Love  and  sorrow  had  consecrated  it — their  own  sweet 
selves ;  albeit,  perhaps  disguised  in  queer  affected 
motley.  For  the  first  time  in  that  horrible  evening, 
tears  started  to  Hester's  eyes.  No  darkness  felt 
dangerous,  no  cold  bitings  if  God  and  human  nature 


260  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


could  live  on  in  them.  For  the  change  of  which 
Hetty  had  the  sorest  dread,  was  of  some  withering 
change  in  herself,  till  perhaps  she  should  fawn  and 
flatter  for  a  shilling,  and  scheme  and  fit  for  a  daintier 
meal,  or  a  softer  garment,  when  the  gardener  waters  a 
flower  perhaps  it  thinks  "  Now  I  am  done  for,  to- 
morrow I  shall  be  but  dead  leaves,"  and  lo  ! — at  dawn 
the  bud  is  become  a  beauteous  blossom  ;  meet  for  the 
Master's  gathering. 

"  Miss  Capel, — my  dear  madam,"  said  an  airy 
voice  outside,  and  in  came  Anthony  Fiske,  quite  trim 
and  neat  enough  to  be  oddly  at  variance  with  the 
bespattered  flat  candlestick  that  he  carried  in  his 
hand.  "Oh,  Miss  Hester!"  and  Hetty  was  dimly 
aware  of  a  fall  in  the  tuneful  tones.  "  Pray  sit  down. 
It's  a  shocking  evening,  isn't  it  ?  And  so  I'm  afraid 
there  must  be  something  very  wrong  to  bring  you 
out." 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  Hester  answered,  gulping  down  a 
dreadful  lump  that  seemed  to  stop  her  words.  "Sibyl 
has  left  home,  and  gone  we  don't  know  where." 

"Ah  yes,  yes,"  said  Anthony  Fiske,  drawing  up  a 
chair,  with  all  the  air  of  a  confidential  adviser,  for  he 
could  act  most  parts  in  life,  but  could  never  get  ade- 
quate scenery.  "  Yes,  yes.  And  do  you  know  that  I 
was  just  coming  round  to  you.  Just  doing  my  toilet. 
(Bah,  this  is  the  chair  with  the  broken  leg  !)  I  have 
just  had  a  curious  letter.  I  was  sitting  over  my  man- 
uscripts, Miss  Hetty,  when  the  servant  brought  it  to 
me.     Such   an  odd  letter,  and  such   a  queer  message. 


DARKNESS.  26 1 


The  servant  said  the  bearer  told  her  to  give  me  that, 
and  I  must  attend  to  it  for  the  love  of  God.  I'll  just 
show  it  to  you;  "  and  he  produced  a  rudely  folded  piece 
of  whitey-brown  paper,  whereon  was  chalked  in  large 
wild  characters  : 

"  Sibyl  Cape/  has  itiherited  the  curse,  ask  for  Captain 
Verdon  in  Clarges  Street.     Ask  at  every  hotel  till  you 
get  the  right  one." 

"  There  was  an  anonymous  letter  left  in  Sibyl's  bed- 
room, said  Hester,  and  whoever  wrote  this,  wrote  that. 
Wouldn't  the  servant  know  what  the  bearer  was 
like  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  no  !  She  takes  no  notice.  Only  last 
week  she  called  an  old  woman  a  girl,  because  she 
wore  a  hat.  Those  are  the  appearances  she  judges 
by.  And  what  does  it  matter  about  the  bearer,  Miss 
Hetty.     Let  us  do  what  she  tells  us." 

"  What  right  reason  can  we  have  to  take  so  much 
interest  and  yet  keep  back  her  name  ?  "  pondered 
Hester. 

Anthony  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  did  not  meet 
Hetty's  eyes.  The  motives  that  rule  the  world  are 
often  those  that  don't  appear,"  said  he.  "  IVe  noticed 
a  good  deal — having  nothing  of  my  own  to  notice,  Miss 
Hetty.  And  I  conclude  I'll  go  to  Clarges  street. 
You  never  heard  anything  about  a  Captain  Verdon, 
did  you,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hester,  "  but  I  have  found  an  officer's 
portrait." 

"  That   is   he,  depend   upon   it.     Now,   my  dear, 


262  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


they'll  expect  you  at  home.  I'll  take  you  there,  and 
leave  you.  To  think  of  a  young  lady  being  out  all 
alone  in  these  dull  streets  at  this  hour  !  It's  very 
shocking.  Not  that  I  think  it  matter^  much,"  he 
added  confidently — "except  for  the  sound  of  it !  '" 

"I  must  go  home  first,  indeed,  sir,'1  said  Hetty; 
"because  I  promised  so.  But  then  I'll  go  on  with 
you,  please." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Hester,  it  will  be  most  unneces- 
sary.    I  can  find  out  whatever  is  to  be  found."' 

"  But  if  you  find  her  ?  "  said  Hetty,  looking  up  with 
great  brown  eyes,  pathetic  with  a  burthen  of  duty,  and 
of  pitiful  womanly  tenderness  which  yet  had  no  love  to 
lighten  it.  Anthony  Fiske  looked  at  her  and  under- 
stood. 

"  We  ought  to  have  a  cab,"  he  said,  buttoning  up 
his  coat. 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  raining  now,"  Hester  replied,  hastily, 
with  an  ever  present  consciousness  of  the  iron  grasp 

of  need  ;    "  still,    if  you    would  prefer   one," she 

added,  remembering   that  she  had  no  right    to  save 
from  the  comforts  of  others. 

"  No,  no  ;  Tm  only  too  glad  to  feel  the  fresh  air," 
he  answered,  opening  the  door  and  letting  a  current 
rush  into  the  stuffy  little  passage.  "  There  isn't  a 
finer  tonic  than  night  air  after  a  shower,  my  dear. 
The  air  is  like  a  laboring  man  when  he  has  washed 
himself,  and  is  not  going  to  begin  again  till  to-morrow. 
But  folks  who  have  lots  of  fine  clothes  they  want  to 
show  off  in  the  sunshine,  are  not  likely  to  find  that 


DARKNESS.  263 


out.     Such,  can't  think  how  those  live  who  don't  get 
a  three  months'  tour  in  the  autumn,  and  a  winter  resort 
when  they  are   poorly.     They   can't   understand   that 
nature  keeps  the  same  articles,  done  up  in  plain  pack- 
ets, and  that  they  only  pay  extra  for  the  gilding.     The 
people  who  are  the  worst  off,  are  those  that  can't  buy 
the  dear  article,  and  won't  touch  the  cheap  one.     Like 
old   decayed  gentlewomen  who  can't  buy  silks   and 
satins  like   they   used,  but  will  still  stick  to  their  stiff 
old  stays,  and  feel  the-  old  familiar  pinch  without  the 
old   pride    to   make  it   bearable.     But  perhaps  they 
enjoy  the  pinch.     Some  people  like  pickles.     There's 
food  in  life  to  suit  all  tastes.     Those  that  have  come 
down,  can  glorify  themselves  by  thinking  what  they 
have  been.     Those  that  have  never  come  up,  can  fancy 
what  they  will  be.     Only  you  can  spoil  the  sweetest 
cup  if  you  flavor  it  with  salt  tears.     Or  if  you  upset  it 
at  the  beginning — but  nobody's  to  blame  but  yourself, 
yet  even  then,  it's  wonderful  how  many   people  will 
offer  you  a  sip  out  of  theirs.     Seems  to  me  that  nobody, 
never  mind  what  a  fool  he  may  have  been,  need  to  be 
miserable  in  this  world,  unless  he   absolutely  prefers 
it ;   and  then  as  I  suppose,  he  finds  happiness  in  that. 
Perhaps  anybody  has  a  right  to  keep  the  foulest  odor 
bottled  up  for  his  own  private  sniffling.     But  the  worst 
of  it  is,  I  never  knew   a   man  who  enjoyed   his  own 
misery,  who  was  selfish  enough  to  keep  it  to  himself. 
He  is  always  for  giving  somebody  else  a  taste.     There 
ought  to  be  some  Inspector  of  such  public  nuisances 
to  take  these  matters  up  and  pour  the  decoction  down 


264  GOLD    AND   DROSS. 

the  owner's  own  throat,  and  set  him  to  break  stones 
till  the  poison  has  worked  itself  safely  off  through  the 
pores  of  his  skin.  This  is  your  street ;  see  how  I've 
rattled  on.  Of  course  you've  not  been  attending,  I 
did  not  expect  you  would.  But  it  keeps  the  thoughts 
from  hammering  each  other  up  too  hard.  Can't 
change  'em,  but  turns  'em  round,  like  a  mill,  and  flings 
'em  about,  and  while  you're  gathering  them  together 
again,  you'll  maybe  pick  up  something  better  as  well. 
Here  is  your  house.  Don't  stay  long.  Every  moment 
is  of  the  utmost  importance."  Hester  rang  the  bell 
so  gently,  that  Philip,  flung  on  his  bed.  grinding  his 
teeth  among  the  pillows,  did  not  hear  it.  Only  Liz 
zie  answered  the  summons.  She  had  placed  some 
wine  and  bread  in  readiness  on  the  hall  table.  Hester 
did  not  touch  it,  but  Anthony  snatched  some  hasty 
refreshment,  while  she  explained  that  they  had  a  slight 
clue,  and  that  they  must  not  be  expected  again  until 
they  appeared.  They  spoke  in  whispers  and  were  off 
in  five  minutes. 

"  I  have  a  very  valuable  manuscript  that  I  prom- 
ised to  complete  for  a  friend  by  noon  on  Monday," 
said  Mr.  Fiske.  "  I  can  keep  my  promise  by  putting 
it  in  other  hands.  So  we  must  just  turn  down 
Chancery  Lane,  and  then  we  will  take  a  Piccadilly 
omnibus  at  Temple  Bar." 

They  paused  before  a  private  house  with  a  strong 
light  burning  behind  its  blinded  parlor-windows. 
Mr.  Fiske  left  Hetty  in  the  entry,  and  went  in.  The 
door  was  only  half  screened,  and  she  could  see  about 


DARKNESS.  265 


half  a  dozen  young  men  busily  writing  at  long  desks. 
They  took  the  bundle  of  paper  from  Mr.  Fiske  with 
only  a  few  words.  But  as  he  moved  towards  the 
door,  the  clerk  called  out,  "  Where  did  you  say  it 
was  to  be  left  sir  ? "  and  Anthony  replied  : 

"At  Mr.  Clinchman's,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  be- 
fore twelve  o'  clock,  Monday." 

'•  The  fact  is,"  said  Anthony,  as  they  again  walked 
off,  "  I've  renewed  acquaintance  with  my  old  office- 
chum,  Arthur  Clinchman.  And  as  it  happened,  I 
wanted  work  to  do,  and  he  wanted  work  to  be  clone. 
So  we  matched  each  other,  like  knife  and  fork.  Only 
one  can  do  without  a  fork,  if  one's  pushed  to  it — 
and  so  could  he  do  without  me  ! " 

"  But  you  could  not  have  finished  all  that  on  Mon- 
day morning,  could  you  ?  "  asked  Hetty,  glad  of  a  mo- 
mentary escape  from  herself. 

"  I  should  have  worked  to-morrow,"  said  Mr. 
Fiske,  shamefacedly  glancing  at  the  pure  face  that 
turned  away  even  from  secular  reading  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  kept  its  own  simple  store  of  '  Sunday 
books.'  "  I  know  it  is  not  right.  That's  the  worst  of 
it.  Once  get  out  of  the  right  groove,  and  you  seem 
to  have  no  choice  except  between  two  evils.  But 
here's  the  Piccadilly  omnibus." 

It  seemed  such  a  weary,  weary  ride.  The  vehicle 
went  so  slowly  and  stopped  so  often,  that  Hester 
longed  to  jump  out  and  trust  to  her  own  feet.  They 
came  to  their  journey's  end  at  last,  and  passed  up 
Clarges  street  among  lounging  waiters  and  cabmen, 
12 


266  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

until  they  reached  a  wide  gaily  lit  door,  where  Mr. 
Fiske  paused  and  inquired  for  Captain  Verdon.  The 
page  knew  he  had  stayed  there,  but  thought  he  was 
away,  and  summoned  an  elder  attendant  who  would 
know  all  about  it.  This  man  was  a  white  chokered, 
oily  insolent  fellow,  who  surveyed  Anthony  and 
Hester  from  top  to  toe,  and  condescended  to  inform 
them  that  '  Captain  Verdon  had  left  London  that  af- 
ternoon for  Brighton  ;  had  not  left  the  name  of  any 
hotel  there,  but  supposed  that  anybody  that  could 
pay  the  pier  fee  would  be  able  to  find  him  out  in  the 
visitor's  book  on  Monday  morning.' 

It  was  poor  Hester's  first  experience  of  that  live- 
ried service  which  is  hired  not  to  work,  but  to  wait, 
and  mainly  to  do,  what  every  man,  not  helpless  or 
idiotic,  ought  to  do  for  himself.  Among  all  the  pain 
and  despair,  like  one  particular  little  screw  in  a  gen- 
eral rack  she  felt  a  bitter  sting  of  degradation,  and  a 
sense  of  outrage  and  insult  that  would  thrill  her 
again  and  again,  years  after,  when  the  great  despair 
was  dead,  and  the  sharp  pain  was  numbed. 

"We  can  do  nothing  till  to-morrow,"  said  Anthony, 
as  he  drew  her  away;  "I  must  take  you  home,  and 
you  must  have  a  quiet  sleep,  and  may  be,  Miss  Capel 
will  let  me  rest  on  the  kitchen-dresser,  or  the  coals, 
or  somewhere,  so  that  I  may  be  with  you  betimes  in  the 
morning,  and  take  you  off  by  the  first  train." 

"  Nothing  till  to-morrow  !  "  Hester's  face  flushed 
hotly  in  the  darkness,  and  the  Woman  Angel  that 
keeps  record  of  her  eirlh-sisters,  struck  a  name  from 
her  white  scroll,  and  wrote  it  clown  in  dust ! 


CHAPTER    XXIL 


DREAMS    AND    AWAKENINGS. 


T  was  the  first  Sunday  journey  that  Hester 
ever  made  in  her  life;  for  all  these  arrange- 
ments had  always  been  in  Elizabeth  Capel's 
hands,  rather  than  her  father's, 
were  down  in  Brighton  before  noon,  and 
had  time  to  make  fruitless  inquiries  at  the  Railway 
station  ere  the  churches  began  to  pour  out  their  con- 
gregations. Then  Mr.  Fiske  hinted  that  he  might 
prosecute  the  search  somewhere  more  effectually 
alone,  and  Hester  yielded  and  went  away  to  sit  by 
herself  on  the  beach. 

How  far  away  last  Sunday  seemed  ?  It  was  a  new 
world  since  then;  nay,  since  yesterday  morning,  Hes- 
ter had  longed  for  the  sea-shore  so  often,  little  dream- 
ing how  she  should  come  down  to  it.  Family 
groups  passed  by,  and  looked  curiously  at  her,  sitting 
on  the  step  of  a  bathing-machine,  she  did  not  look 
a  Sunday  figure — with  a  sleepless  night  recorded  on 
her  wrung  face,  and  the  dust  and  disturbance  of  her 
journey  in  her  dress — she  had  tried  to  dress  carefully, 


268  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

poor  thing,  so  as  to  win,  rather  than  to  repel  this  mis- 
erable sister  of  hers.  But  her  mourning  garments  were 
so  common  and  plain,  that  especially  after  the  third- 
class  railway  carriage,  the  experiment  did  not  seem 
very  successful. 

The  sea  came  rattling  and  rushing  over  the  shin- 
gles, and  a  fresh  blue  sky  cleared  by  last  night's  storm, 
shone  bright  over  all;  what  did  the  sea  care  for  the 
shells,  that  it  carried  out  and  dropped  into  its  depths, 
or  for  the  other  shells  that  it  threw  ashore,  and 
broke  upon  the  shingle;  what  did  the  sun  know 
about  it  ?  But  God  had  said  that  he  knew  all  about  it, 
had  sent  the  little  sparrow  to  the  stray  crumb  on  Cheyne 
walk — and  knew  each  of  the  little  birds  pecking 
among  the  stones — knew  her  too  sitting  on  the  dry 
steps  of  the  bathing-machine — and  she  looked  meekly 
back  at  the  curious  half-mocking  people  that  looked 
at  her,  and  hoped  that  God  would  put  them  in  mind 
of  this  whenever  their  lives  should  pass  into  the  rainy 
season. 

Anthony  Fiske  rejoined  her  in  an  hour  or  two — 
still  unsuccessful,  only  one  hope  seemed  to  remain  for 
that  day,  to  go  and  sit  upon  the  pier,  if  haply,  those 
they  were  longing  for  might  come  out  to  seek  where 
the  freshest  sea-breezes  were  blowing. 

Hester  thought  the  very  toll-keeper  looked  at 
them,  and  it  were  small  wonder  if  he  did.  They  had 
biscuits  in  their  pockets  to  refresh  themselves  from 
time  to  time  if  need  were;  Anthony  Fiske  had  provid- 
ed these,  and  did  not  forget  them,  Hester  could  swal- 
low— nothing. 


DREAMS    AND   AWAKENINGS.  269 

"  You  must  think  me  very  unfeeling,"  said  Anthony 
munching. 

"  No,"  she  answered;  "  it  cannot  be  to  you  what  it 
is  to  me." 

He  shook  his  head  gently;  "I  should  have  been 
dead  of  starvation  years  ago  if  I  had  not  learned  to 
eat  under  any  circumstances,"  he  said.  Suddenly 
looking  up  at  the  pier  they  saw  a  tall  man,  and  a 
graceful  woman  walking  towards  them.  Hester's  face 
whitened  as  she  recognized  them,  and  quick  as  thought, 
Anthony  drew  her  behind  the  screens  of  the  pier 
head. 

"  This  isn't  the  place  to  speak  to  her,"  he  whis- 
pered ;  "but  we  will  follow  them  when  they  leave." 

The  two  sauntered  to  and  fro  for  a  long  long  time. 
Oh,  it  was  so  bitter  hard  to  sit  there  waiting  !  to  see 
the  dainty  white  ruffs  round  Sibyl's  neck  and  wrists  and 
the  carefully  selected  familiar  ornaments  which  told 
of  such  dreadful  coolness  and  premediation.  How 
she  laughed  and  jested  and  retorted  !  with  what  pretty 
coquetry  she  looked  up  in  that  haughty  patrician  face 
which  poor  Hester  remembered  only  too  well,  under 
the  trees  of  the  Green  Park.  Oh,  the  sunny  sea  that 
was  sporting  around  them  might  be  cruel  enough  in  its 
rocky  bays,  or  far,  far  off,  amid  the  silence  of  great 
glaciers  ;  but  its  cruelty  was  kind  beside  this  cruel  false 
woman,  who  would  break  a  heart  sooner  than  wear 
cheap  gloves,  and  sell  her  own  soul  for  a  dress  that 
was  pleasant  to  the  touch  !  Seduced  ?  Hester  sitting 
there  watching  her  own    sister,   could   have  laughed 


270  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 


with  scorn  at  the  word,  she  thought  to  herself  with  a 
pitiful  womanly  wonder.  Did  he  fancy  Sibyl  loved 
him,  that  young  aristocrat ;  if  he  did  then,  Hester  knew 
she  was  wiser  than  he  ;  feeling  that  if  the  sea  had  come 
up  at  that  instant  and  Sibyl  could  have  secured  her 
dresses  and  gloves  without  him,  she  would  not  have 
held  out  a  finger  to  save  him  from  the  waves.  "  And 
yet,  oh,  sister,  sister — the  doll  you  gave  me  years  ago  is 
put  away  in  silver  paper,  and  we  used  to  sing  '  the 
happy  land  '  together,  and  you  were  our  father's  dar- 
ling !  Poor  father,  but  dead  now,  and  our  mother  so 
long  in  Heaven — what  will  she  say  when  she  hears 
that  we  have  lost  you  ?  " 

At  last  they  followed  them  home  to  a  large  dreary 
house,  far  out  to  the  West.  Anthony  and  Hester  wait- 
ed outside  for  nearly  ten  minutes  ;  after  they  entered, 
then  Hester  applying  alone,  asked  for  the  lady  and  gen- 
tleman who  had  just  gone  in  and  directed  the  servant 
to  take  up  the  name  of  Miss  Capel.  She  heard  the  girl 
announce  it.  There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then 
a  rustle  of  dress  up  stairs  and  the  well-known  bell-like 
voice,  directing  the  attendant  to  show  the  young  per- 
son to  "my  bedroom." 

The  servant  beckoned  Hester  up,  and  indicated, 
"  the  first  door  on  the  right ;  "  it  was  left  a  little  ajar 
and  flew  open  as  Hester  approached  and  shut  it 
swiftly  behind  her.  Sibyl  was  keeping  a  strict  guard 
over  the  proprieties.  The  two  sisters  stood  face  to 
face—"  Now  don't  make  a  noise  ;*'  were  Sibyl's  first 
words.     "  I  don't  want  the  people  of  the   house    to 


DREAMS    AND    AWAKENINGS.  27 1 

know   anything,    and    they're    sure   to   be    listening. 
Sit  down  and  don't  be  ridiculous." 

"  Oh,  Sibyl,  how  could  you  do  it  ? "  sobbed 
Hester. 

Sibyl  laughed  and  held  out  her  ringed  left  hand ; 
"  Married  this  morning,"  she  said. 

"  What,  to  a  Captain  Verdon  ?  "  cried  Hester. 

Sibyl  had  not  meant  to  admit  the  true  name,  but 
she  rapidly  cast  up  Hester's  possibility  of  information 
and  replied,  "  Well,  what  if  it  is  so  ? " 

"  But  why  need  you  have  gone  away  like  this  ? 
such  a  disgrace  and  pain,  Sibyl  ?  what  was  to  hinder 
you  from  telling  us  and  leaving  home  as  you  should 
do — however  private  you  wished  the  marriage  to  be  ? " 

Sibyl  ascertained  that  the  door  was  quite  fast. 
"  He  does  not  wish  to  Jiave  anything  to  do  with  my 
family,"  she  said.  "It  is  best  so.  I,  knowing  you 
all,  know  you  would  never  draw  well  together.  It  is 
not  likely. " 

"  And  Philip  Lewis  !  "  as  with  a  flash  all  things 
returned  to  Hester's  stunned  memory,  she  added, 
fiercely ;  "  Sibyl,  you  are  a  wicked  woman  !  " 

"  We  must  all  do  what  we  think  best  for  ourselves," 
said  Sibyl  coolly ;  "  it  is  best  for  others  too,  in  reality, 
what  good  would  Lewis  have  found  in  a  wife  that  did 
not  care  for  him,  I  am  sorry  for  him,  but  what  is  to  be 
must  be,  and  he  has  you  to  comfort  him,  Hester  !  " 

Hester  looked  at  the  handsome  face  that  met  hers 
so  boldly.  There  seemed  some  strange  hard  lines  in 
it,  the  initial  letter  of  something  that  the  iron  pen  of 


272  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


Truth  was  presently  to  write  all  over  the  fair  features. 
Hester  the  stern,  looked  at  her  and  in  the  front  of 
all  that  triumphant  glow  of  the  lust  of  the  eye,  the 
lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  pride  of  life,  indignation 
somehow  turned  to  pity. 

"  Oh,  Sibyl,  Sibyl !  God  forgive  me  if  I  am  wrong 
— but  I  cannot  help  doubting ;  When  were  you 
married  ?  Oh,  Sibyl,  come  home  with  me,  for  just 
one  clay  !  " 

"  Don't  be  nonsensical,"  said  her  sister.  "  Pretty 
sisterly  counsel,  to  leave  my  husband.  I  was  married 
down  here — some  church  in  the  back  streets,  I  don't 
know  its  name  because  I'm  a  stranger,  and  of  course 
Captain  Verdon  had  it  all  ready  arranged." 

"  But  what  reason  for  all  this  ?  "  Hester  pleaded 
again. 

Sibyl  cast  down  her  eyes  for  a  moment  and  then 
looked  up  again  ;  she  had  a  cruel  weapon  in  her  hand 
which  would  perhaps  serve  this  time  better  than  any 
other. 

"  You  shouldn't  ask,"  she  retorted.  "  Perhaps  it's 
a  good  thing  for  all  of  you  to  have  got  rid  of  me.  I 
know  I'm  very  thankful  to  be  safely  married.  Can't 
you  guess  how  thankful  a  woman  must  be  some- 
times ? "  Her  face  did  not  betray  the  gnawing  that  was 
in  her  soul  at  that  moment.  "  Now  don't  be  foolish  ; 
I've  been  of  age  long  enough,  and  nobody  has  any 
right  to  control  me — not  even  poor  dear  papa,  if  he 
were  alive,  you  know  ;  I'm  married ;  let  that  content 
you.     Whether  I   shall  be  happy  or  unhappy,  is  my 


DREAMS    AND    AWAKENINGS.  273 

business,  I  don't  expect  much  in  that  way  at  first,  but 
I  don't  forget  that  I  have  to  be  grateful  to  my  hus- 
band"— she  paused  on  those  words,  as  if  to  leave  their 
whole  depths  of  meaning  clear  in  her  sister's  mind. 
"  It  will  only  make  it  worse  for  me,  if  my  family  is 
troublesome  ,  I  can  appreciate  your  motives,  dear 
Hetty,  but  he  will  not.  It  will  only  hamper  and  bur- 
den him,  and  make  him  impatient  and  angry  with  me. 
Leave  me  to  fight  my  own  battles,  I  am  quite  able  > 
unless  you  tie  my  hands,  I  have  no  fear,  that  I  shall 
find  him  liberal  and  indulgent.  His  own  family  does 
not  know  of  his  marriage  yet,  and  they  will  make 
bother  enough — without  my  people  helping  them." 

And  she  rose  from  the  chair  to  imply  that  their 
interview  was  ended. 

Hester  went  up  to  her  and  kissed  her.  The  caress 
meant  something,  for  it  was  years  since  it  had  been 
common  between  them.  Sibyl  returned  it  coolly,  and 
instinctively  re-arranged  the  collar  which  Hester  had 
ruffled. 

"  Did  you  come  by  yourself?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  Mr.  Fiske  brought  me,"  Hester  answered. 

Sibyl  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Take  that 
meddlesome  idiot  back  with  you,  as  soon  as  you  can," 
she  said  ;  "  or  there  wilj  be  some  trouble  between  me 
and  Verdon,  it  is  not  much  ;  you  may  write  to  me  if 
you  like,  but  never  come  to  me  till  I  ask  you.  I  am 
married.     Let  that  content  you." 

"  But  all  the  sin    of  it,  Sibyl ;  the  sin,  have  you 
thought  of  that  ? " 
12* 


274  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 

"  Haven't  had  time  yet,"  Sibyl  rejoined,  lightly. 
"  Don't  begin  crying.  Hetty — you  who  were  always 
so  strong-minded  ;  go  away  now,  like  a  good  girl,  give 
my  love  to  them  all  at  home." 

And  she  almost  pushed  Hester  from  the  room, 
shut  the  door  behind  her,  and  left  her  to  find  her  way 
down  stairs  by  herself. 

"  Take  me  home,  take  me  home,"  said  Hester, 
gaspingly,  as  she  rejoined  Mr.  Fiske  ;  "she  is  married, 
and  doesn't  want  anything  to  do  with  us.  Oh,  poor 
Sibyl,  poor  Sibyl !  " 

"  Married,  eh  !"  exclaimed  Anthony.  "  Married, 
indeed!  Married  to  young  Verdon !  when?— But 
there's  a  train  to  London  in  half  an  hour,  you  want 
home  and  quiet  now  !  we  can't  do  any  more  for  her 
— Married,  eh !  "  Yet  Anthony  let  his  incredulity, 
pass  in  the  mask  of  astonishment,  for  the  figure  at  his 
side  hung  heavily  on  his  arm,  and  still  went  on  moan- 
ing. 

'•  Oh,  poor  Sibyl— poor  Sibyl ! " 

It  was  strange.  For  then  Hester  held  fast  by  a 
confused  hope,  that  there  was  truth  in  her  sister's 
asseverations  and  that  Sibyl  had  really,  though  by  a 
dark  and  polluted  path  obtained  her  idol — temple  of 
indolent  luxury.  Her  whole  moral  and  mental  nature 
too,  was  throbbing  from  this  sharp  collision  with  a 
disposition  that  threw  back  its  forces,  calm  and  un- 
moved as  a  rock  in  a  storm.  And  life  for  herself  and 
those  she  loved  lay  before  her,  desolate  as  a  flat 
morass  beneath  a  thunder  sky.     And  yet  the  feeling 


DREAMS    AND   AWAKENINGS.  275 

that  rose  uppermost  was  still  no  just  indignation,  no 
bitter  sense  of  wrong,  they  might  rise  again  and 
would,  but  not  now;  nothing  but  pity — only  pity  ! 

Home  again — home  through  the  darkness  and 
heat  of  a  third-class  carriage,  home  through  the  strange 
familiar  streets  leaning  on  Anthony's  arm !  Pale 
— voiceless. 

And  the  moment  she  was  back  in  the  old  house 
with  the  dear  old  faces  crowding  about  her,  her  strength 
returned  ;  she  must  be  the  staff  here,  the  very  weight 
of  the  loving  pressure  upon  her,  restored  her  to  her 
true  vocation.  More  than  ever  when  the  letter  that 
Lizzie  instantly  wrote  to  Brighton,  presently  came 
back  through  the  Dead-letter  office,  marked  on  the 
back  '  Gone  on  to  the  Continent,  and  left  no  address,' 
they  knew  what  that  meant.  It  cut  off  their  forlorn 
hope,  and  made  Hester  shudder  at  the  thought  of  her 
half-trustful  parting  from  the  sinner.  Metaphorically 
she  again  girded  her  sword  upon  her  thigh.  There 
were  sharper  wounds  than  hers,  since  she  had  only 
family  feelings,  and  high  sense  of  honor — where  dear 
Lizzie  had  sisterly  affection,  and  poor  Philip  his 
slighted  manly  love.  She  must  be  brave  for  them  ; 
she  must  speak  stern  truths  in  sharp  words  for  them, 
she  had  felt  happier  while  she  sat  still  and  sobbed  for 
poor  Sibyl  !  But  what  would  become  of  them  all,  if 
she  did  any  more  ? 

Does  the  north  wind  ever  cut  bitter  and  keen 
upon  itself?  Does  it  ever  wish  that  God  had  put  it 
in  the   south    instead  ?     Never  mind,  God   made   all 


276  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

things  well,  and  if  the  north  wind  did  not  blow,  what 
pestilence  would  rise  from  the  south  ? 

Only  God  be  with  them  all,  those  who  are  strong 
enough  to  be  set  to  cut  the  gordian  knot  and  to  tear 
up  the  rank  weeds  that  will  entangle  this  world  of 
ours  !  The  reaper  may  be  fit  for  his  hard  work  in  the 
sun,  but  Oh,  how  weary  he  is  by  nightfall  1  And  Oh, 
how  rough  and  brown  and  rude  he  looks  beside  the 
sheltered  folk,  who  eat  the  fruit  of  his  labors. 

But  something  happened  on  that  Monday  after* 
Hester's  return  from  Brighton,  while  the  poor  family 
could  still  wrap  themselves  in  one  poor  last  delusion, 
and  Hetty  dared  still  to  drop  a  tear  and  to  sigh 
"  poor  Sibyl  !  "  No  event ;  only  one  of  those  curious 
things,  which  hint  to  us  that  there  remain  sciences  not 
yet  reduced  to  system  and  competitive  examination. 
That  Sunday  night  Hester  had  slept  the  dull  heavy 
sleep  of  sheer  worn-out  misery.  But  she  had  one 
dream,  not  of  the  trouble  of  the  past  day,  only  a  dream 
of  her  own  sensation — her  own  aching  head  and  burn- 
ing limbs — and  that  her  mother  came  to  her  and  kissed 
her,  not  the  young  mother,  that  the  old  portrait  al- 
ways presented  to  her  fancy  ;  but  somebody  tall  and 
spare  and  elderly  that  still  she  knew  was  her  mother. 
She  a-woke  under  the  kiss  and  waking  seemed  to  feel 
it  still  on  her  cheek.  The  red  light  of  a  dull  Autumn 
morning  was  strong  in  the  room,  and  there  stood  Mrs. 
Edwardes,  come  to  rouse  her  and  to  offer  a  refresh- 
ing cup  of  tea. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


A    PATENT   AND   A    FLUTE. 


T  is  an  old  adage  that  '  troubles  never  come 
alone.'  Perhaps  we  ought  to  thank  God 
that  they  very  seldom  do.  When  many 
bitter  ingredients  are  mingled  in  a  cup,  we 
do  not  take  the  full  loathsomeness  of  each.  Poverty 
will  not  leave  us  to  brood  over  bereavement  and 
bereavement  throws  poverty  into  the  back-ground, 
disarmed.  Domestic  trouble  makes  us  to  rejoice  over 
changes  that  we  could  once  scarcely  think  of  calmly. 
And  change  with  its  wonderful  essence  of  Lethe,  takes 
the  edge  from  domestic  trouble. 

The  Capels  left  the  Queen's  Road.  It  had  now 
too  bitter  associations  to  permit  any  sentiment  at 
their  departure.  They  removed  to  such  rooms  as 
Anthony  Fiske  had  advised.  Three  rooms  at  the 
very  top  of  a  quiet  house  in  a  humble  street,  where 
everybody  got  their  living  by  labor  of  their  hands. 
Wide  low  rooms,  quaint  with  cross  beams,  and  out-of- 
the-way  shelves,  and  long  olcl-fashioned  windows 
spreading   along  the  wall,  and  cut  off  at   the  end  to 


(OLD   AND   DROSS. 


light  the  stair-case.  Rooms  that  did  not,  like  the  old 
home  in  Queen's  Road,  strike  a  painful  contrast  by- 
suggestions  of  leisure  and  luxury.  These  seemed 
made  simply  to  work  in,  and  to  pray  in,  and  to  rest 
in,  with  the  few  dear  ones  who  are  really  all  one's 
world.  They  were  congenial  to  the  Capels'  future, 
with  its  humble  industries  and  small  economies. 
Hester  drew  her  breath  freely.  The  sense  of  suffoca- 
tion was  gone.  There  was  harmony  now  in  the  very 
atmosphere.  For  to  dwell  poor,  under  the  formula 
of  competence,  is  to  endure  the  evils  of  two  zones — 
to  be  frozen  and  scorche'd  at  the  same  time. 

It  was  wonderful  how  quickly  things  adjusted 
themselves.  Reality  seldom  becomes  dramatic  in  a 
day,  it  has  the  leisure  of  so  many  years  to  work  in. 
Nobody   left  them  an  unexpected  fortune.     Nobody 

lived  to  adopt  them.  Nobody  in  any  way  inter- 
fered with  their  plain  work-day  prospects.  But  the 
surplus  furniture  sold  for  rather  more  than  they  had 
dared  to  hope,  and  the  unlooked-for  payment  of  a  bad 
debt,  brought  in  another  welcome  trifle.  Scraps  of 
Dora's  writing,  too,  were  regularly  finding  their  way 
into  print,  bringing  in  little  payments  that  would  at 
least  serve  to  eke  out  their  resources  while  they 
sought  for  something  more  reliable. 

Popps  was  with  them  for  the  present — scarcely 
as  servant,  but  thoroughly  serviceable.  Her  marriage 
with  Tom  was  now  drawing  very  near — nearer  than 
January,  for  he  was  now  resolved  that  she  should  have 
"a  home  of  her  own"  before  Christmas.     The  poor 


A    PATENT    AND    A    FLUTE.  279 

girl  was  strangely  unhinged  by  a  piece  of  good  for- 
tune that  had  befallen  her  lover.  Tom  Moxon  had 
not  attended  Mechanics'  Institutes  and  scientific 
lectures  for  nothing.  His  skilful  hand,  trained  by 
experience,  had  found  a  point  in  his  trade,  where 
force  was  wasted.  His  shrewd  eye,  educated,  had 
gradually  puzzled  out  the  mechanism  whereby  this 
same  force  might  be  saved.  It  was  not  done  in  a 
day.  He  had  talked  of  the  flaw  to  older  men  when 
he  was  a  boy,  and  they  had  said,  "  it  could  not  be 
helped."  Later  on  he  had  prophesied  that  it  would  be 
helped,  and  had  been  roundly  laughed  at.  His  mother 
had  made  a  grievance  of  his  "  rather  sittin'  in  his  cold 
bedroom,  a-wasting  a  second  candle  into  the  bargain, 
than  comin'  to  her  comfortable  fireside,  and  making 
himself  sociable-like."  He  had  told  Popps  of  his 
vision  of  invention,  and  she  had  been  pleased  at  first, 
and  curious,  but  presently  grew  doubtful,  and  let  the 
subject  drop  from  their  conversations,  and  did  not 
even  mention  it  to  her  young  ladies,  for  fear  they'd 
think  he  was  a-turning  out  unsteady.  He  had  been 
so  quiet  and  absent  for  some  weeks  lately,  that  poor 
Popps  had  been  secretly  haunted  with  a  dread  that 
he  knew  he  was  going  to  lose  his  situation.  When 
suddenly,  he  came  one  evening  to  the  new  home,  and 
standing  in  the  passage,  gravely  elate,  told  Popps 
that  he  was  a  Patented  Inventor,  and  had  just  been 
hired  by  the  greatest  Engineer  in  London,  at  a  salary 
of  two  hundred  a  year,  beside  what  his  discovery 
would  sure  to  bring  in. 


2&0  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


Anthony  Fiske  chanced  to  be  visiting  the  Capels 
that  evening,  and  so  Tom  was  invited  into  their  gar- 
ret-sitting room,  to  show  the  sketches  of  his  models, 
and  to  tell  the  details  of  his  good  news. 

There  was  somebody  else  there,  too.  Only  Philip 
Lewis,  the  very  thought  of  whom  often  made  Hester's 
heart  to  ache  with  sorrow  and  shame.  The  whole 
truth  had  come  home  to  him  at  last ;  and  that  once 
accepted,  the  poor  fellow  had  a  dogged  belief  in  the 
grandeur  of  stoical  endurance.  Too  sensible,  wilfully 
to  upset  his  whole  future  for  sake  of  false  woman,  he 
was  too  stubbornly  proud  to  accept  even  the  palliative 
of  a  temporary  change  of  scene  and  society.  He 
would  at  once  be  what  he  had  been.  The  very  effort 
defeated  itself.  And  now  Hester  saw  and  pitifully 
deplored  the  peculiar  misery  of  the  very  tempera- 
ment which  she  had  often  envied.  "Comfortable 
commonplace,'1  she  had  once  said,  bitterly,  of  him. 
But  no  soul  is  commonplace  itself,  and  the  more  it  is 
swathed  in  platitude  and  dogma,  the  lonelier  it  dwells 
within — so  bound  and  stiffened  that  it  cannot  even 
raise  a  hand  to  seek  the  grasp  of  sympathy  and  suc- 
cor. He  had  not  understood  her.  Now  he  could 
not  understand  himself.  If  he  had  formerly  height- 
ened her  anguish  by  comfortless  nostrums  of  truism 
and  theory,  at  least  he  had  no  better  recipe  for  his 
own  pain.  She  had  always  had  consciousness  of  a 
higher  sphere  than  her  sphere  of  antagonism  and  re- 
sistance, and  if  this  had  made  her  restless  it  had  been 
with  the  restlessness  of  endeavor,  which  is  Hope  in 


A    PATENT    AND    A    FLUTE.  28 1 

action.  Philip  had  mistaken  the  limits  of  a  narrow 
experience  for  the  boundaries  of  creation,  till  a  rude 
concussion  had  shattered  them  to  the  ground  and 
left  him  standing  in  a  wilderness  of  which  he  had 
never  dreamed.  And  now  Hester  pondered  that  the 
earthquake  in  which  the  sham  spiritual  edifice  falls, 
may  so  shock  the  true  soil  beneath,  that  perhaps  no 
more  fresh  good  life  even  of  the  old  coarse  sort  will 
grow  out  of  it  !  Oh,  false  light-souled  Sibyl,  asking 
hardly  what  harm  you  have  done  him  in  robbing  him 
of  your  worthiest  self?  the  answer  would  be  truly, 
none  at  all,  if  you  could  restore  him  his  old  honest 
faith  in  God  and  man,  even  with  all  its  ignorance, 
and  his  own  buoyant  energies,  even  with  their  inno- 
cent egotism.  And  is  it  such  as  you,  Oh,  false  Sibyl, 
who  care  what  harm  you  do,  are  not  such  as  you  ready 
to  count  the  damnation  of  a  man's  soul  as  an  even 
prouder  trophy  of  your  prowess  than  the  wreck  of 
his  happiness  ? 

Philip's  mother  in  the  country,  having  been  duly 
informed  of  her  son's  engagement,  of  course  had  to 
hear  of  its  miserable  end.  She  wrote  back  that  she 
thanked  God  that  he  had  made  such  a  lucky  escape 
and  she  trusted  this  would  teach  him  to  be  more 
careful  next  time.  And  she  never  again  alluded  to 
the  matter.  An  evil  sorrow,  like  an  evil  disease, 
must  be  covered  up.  It  is  etiquette,  rather  to  let  us 
die  of  it,  than  to  annoy  us  about  it.  And  in  the  main, 
this  is  a  wise  and  merciful  etiquette,  for  Job's  com- 
forters like  quack-doctors,  are  worse  than  none  at  all. 


282  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

But  Philip  constantly  visited  the  women  who 
should  have  become  his  sisters.  They  knew  all  about 
everything.  They  had  this  sorrow  and  shame  in  com- 
mon, and  in  silence.  Hester  was  very  kind  to  him 
now,  she  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  hear  him 
once  more  dogmatizing  the  old  narrow  way,  unless  in- 
deed, he  rose  out  of  it  into  a  higher  and  wider  wis- 
dom. But  he  and  Hester  did  not  say  much  to  each 
other.  He  knew  what  her  judgment  had  always  been 
and  he  could  not  refrain  from  resenting  its  correct- 
ness. There  was  no  such  pang  between  him  and  Dora. 
Dora  had  once  herself  adored  Sibyl,  and  Dora  believed 
i.i  a  poetic  world,  which  was  intellectual  change  of  air 
to  Philip,  even  while  it  left  his  pride  free  to  comfort 
itself  that  it  doggedly  remained  immoveable. 

Tom  Moxon  entered  the  sitting-room,  with  that 
unostentatious  bashfulness,  which  bears  evidence  of 
respect  and  self-respect,  lie  had  talked  with  a  great 
many  gentlemen  lately.  But  these  people  were  differ- 
ent. Those  were  strangers,  never  known  till  he  had 
gone  to  them  with  his  patent  in  his  hand. 

He  had  never  worked  in  their  kitchen.  He  had 
never  courted  their  servant.  These  were  at  once 
nearer  and  farther. 

"And  so  you  have  invented  something  that  no- 
body's ever  invented  before,  eh,"  said  the  fluent  An- 
thony. "  That's  the  wonderful  part  of  it.  I've  invent- 
ed things  over  and  over  again — things  I'd  never  seen 
or  heard  of,  I  solemnly  assure  you.  But  they  had 
always  been  invented  before  that." 


A    PATENT    AND    A    FLUTE.  283 

Philip  turned  over  the  drawings  with  appreciative 
eye. 

"  And  you've  got  a  patent,  and  a  good  situation 
besides  !  "  Anthony  went  on,  "  Dear  me  !  You'll  be 
a  Sir  Joseph  Paxton,  someday,  I  suppose,  and  be  send- 
ing us  invitations  to  dinner  at  corporation  banquets." 

"  Not  much  fear  of  that,  sir,"  said  the  half-smi- 
ling— half  embarrassed  Tom.  "If  I  can  only  afford 
to  keep  to  the  work  that  I  like  best,  and  to  make 
things  comfortable  for  them  that  belong  to  me,  I'll 
be  thankful  and  content." 

"  I  should  rather  think  so.  That  is  a  very  fair 
share  of  life!  ''  observed  Dora,  who  was  growing 
more  sociable,  and  more  ready  to  join  in  conversation 
than  merely  to  listen. 

"  But  it  all  depends  upon  one's  ideas  of  comfort,"  said 
Anthony,  shaking  his  head;  "my  general  experience 
has  been  that  it  is  something  just  beyond  our  means 
whether  they  be  twenty  pounds  or  half  a  million." 

"  We  must  just  take  what  comes  to  us  in  this 
world,  and  between  one  thing  and  another,  I  think  it 
all  comes  to  the  same."  Thus  spoke  Philip  Lewis, 
bending  over  the  plans.  And  Hester  felt  the  bitter 
change  from  his  old  hopeful  energy. 

"  Why  can't  we  all  invent  something  ?  " — asked 
Anthony  Fiske.  "  Why  didn't  I  invent  the  perforation 
of  postage  stamps  ?  There's  some  improvement  to  be 
invented  for  every  article  in  this  room — why  can't  we 
find  out  their  deficiencies  as  well  as  other  people  ? 
Miss  Hetty,  tell  me  what  is  wrong  about  that  candle- 


284  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

stick,  and  I  will  set  my  brains  to  work  to  rectify  it. 
The  fact  is  it  takes  a  sort  of  second  sight  to  find  out 
flaws — let  alone  how  to  mend  them.  In  politics  now, 
it's  enough  to  do  the  first,  and  go  speechifying  about 
the  wrong,  without  indicating  the  right.  In  fact,  in 
politics,  a  wrong  that  can  be  righted  is  never  an  inter- 
esting wrong  or  a  popular  wrong.  I  once  undertook 
to  get  up — I  mean  I  was  engaged — at  least  I  made  it 
my  duty  to  occupy  myself  in  a  scheme  for  procuring 
better  dwellings  for  the  working  classes.  Part  of  my 
duty  called  me  to  be  present  at  lectures  and  discus- 
sions on  the  subject  (poor  Anthony  had  really  been 
chair-arranger,  prospectus-distributor,  inquirer-answer- 
er and  generally-useful  factotum),  but  our  rooms 
were  as  empty  as  a  drum,  because  there  was  a  stump- 
orator  speaking  in  the  town  that  night,  flaring  away 
about  '  Down  with  the  bloated  aristocracy,'  and 
e  Down  with  Priestcraft  and  Capitalists,'  and  '  Up  with 
Liberty,  Equality  and  Fraternity  in  Blackguardism,' 
and  'Why  should  you  be  working  so  hard  while  others 
have  nothing  to  do  but  pay  you  ? '  The  working-men 
did  not  come  near  us.  They  went  to  hear  him.  They'd 
rather  keep  their  grievances  at  their  blackest,  since 
they  could  not  turn  them  at  once  into  a  coach-and- 
four  and  a  mansion  in  Grosvenor  square.11 

"Not  all  of  them,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  Tom, 
stiffly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  heartily,  Mr.  Moxon.  You 
cannot  suppose  I  mean  the  working-men  who  take  out 
patents.     No,  no.1' 


A    PATENT    AND    A    FLUTE.  285 


"  That's  the  worst  of  you,  gentlemen.'1  Tom  went 
on,  with  a  simple  earnestness.  "  You  put  off  all  the 
discontent  on  our  heads.  There's  discontented  in  all 
classes — those  that  can't  get  on  are  discontented  who- 
ever they  be.  I've  read  in  history  that  even  royal 
princes  who  yet  ain't  heirs  to  the  throne,  especially  if 
they've  been  so  once,  and  been  cut  out  by  a  baby,  are 
always  ready  to  take  a  kick  at  the  throne.  It's  always 
a  lawyer  who  can't  get  fees,  or  a  newspaper-gentleman 
out  of  work  that  leads  away  the  working-men  at  first." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  that  people  are  right  to  rest 
satisfied  in  their  own  prosperity  ?  "  said  Hetty. 

"  No,  miss,  that's  just  what  I  don't  mean,"  an- 
swered Tom  ;  "  but  there's  few  of  us  can  help  other 
people  better  than  by  helping  ourselves  in  the  right 
way.  No  meetings  will  lighten  the  burden  of  poor- 
rates,  as  it  would  if  each  working-man  wouldn't  grudge 
a  little  overtime  to  support  his  father  and  mother,  or 
to  lay  by  a  few  pounds  to  help  his  own  wife  to  help 
herself  when  she's  left  a  widow.  The  nation's  made 
up  of  individuals,  Miss — and  if  each  of  them  is  doing 
well,  and  if  any  of  them  aren't,  it's  more  likely  to  be 
through  their  own  faults  than  any  other  body's." 

"  But  there  is  affliction,"  said  Dora  ;  "  sickness — 
failure." 

"  Of  course  there  is,  Miss,"  asserted  Tom  ;  "  but 
it  isn't  the  man  who  can't  help  himself,  who  has  help 
to  spare  for  others.  A  man's  first  business  is  to  work 
hard   that   nobody   need   to   help    him,  and  then  to 


286  GOLD    AND   DROSS. 

work  a  little  harder  that  he  may  help  others.  That's 
being  just  first  and  finishing  up  with  generosity." 

"  But  things  are  so  unfair,"  Hester  mused  aloud. 
"  See  what  cruel  wages  are  given.  If  it  is  wrong,  men 
agitate  and  combine  in  strikes  and  trades-unions. 
How  else  are  they  to  protect  themselves  from  wrong  ?  " 

Tom  looked  at  her,  fascinated.  All  these  problems 
had  vexed  his  own  soul  once  upon  a  time,  though  he 
had  long  since  worked  them  out  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
by  the  simple  process  of  doing  diligently  whatsoever 
his  hand  found  to  do,  and  keeping  his  eyes  open  in 
the  meantime.  But  he  remembered  his  hours  of  self- 
conflict,  and  how  his  mother  and  Popps  had  thrown 
freezing  water  on  all  his  hints  of  the  questions  that 
perplexed  him.  He  had  come  at  last  to  agree  with 
their  roughly-stated  propositions,  "  that  folks  had 
better  mind  their  own  business."  But  he  knew  that 
they  had  argued  it  at  second-hand,  and  not  as  the  best, 
but  as  the  safest  course.  He  had  ascribed  it  less  to 
their  natures  in  particular  than  to  woman's  general 
docility  to  authority  and  dogma,  and  had  so  made  up 
his  mind  that  one-half  of  his  life  must  be  lived  out 
alone.  But  here  was  a  lady  actually  stumbling  over 
the  very  difficulties  that  had  tripped  him  up.  Here 
was  somebody  who  would  not  have  snubbed  and 
silenced  him. 

"You  may  guess  that  I've  often  thought  that  over, 
Miss,"'  he  said.  And  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  are  wrongs  to  be  righted.  But  if  you've  got  to 
batter  down  a  wall,  its  not  wise  for  you  to  break  your 


A    PATENT    AND    A    FLUTE.  287 

own  head,  thumping  it  against  it.  Better  wait  awhile, 
and  let  it  stand,  till  you've  got  a  good  battering-ram 
that'll  do  the  work  in  no  time  and  like  play  to  your- 
self. Strikes  are  like  using  heads  and  fists  against 
granite.  They  may  hurt  the  masters  a  bit,  but  they 
hurt  the  workman  a  deal  more. 

"  When  a  trade's  going  down,  cheapening,  and  so 
on — there's  some  reason  for  it,  be  sure,  and  instead 
of  making  up  meetings  and  spending  all  their  savings 
on  strikes,  the  men  had  better  turn  over  in  their 
minds  what  else  they  can  do — and  go  and  do  it — 
and  if  not  at  home  go  out  in  the  Colonies.  The 
man's  as  free  as  his  master.  If  he's  not  compelled 
as  to  what  he  offers,  they're  not  compelled  as  to  tak- 
ing it.  Wages  go  down  chiefly  because  times  change, 
and  demands  with  'em,  and  the  time  men  waste  mak- 
ing speeches  and  hanging  about,  they  had  better 
spend  in  qualifying  themselves  for  the  new  demands 
that  are  coming  up.  There's  a  deal  of  talk,  as  this 
gentleman  says  about  the  unfair  advantage  of  capital 
over  labor — but  there's  sides  to  that  question  that 
working-men  forget.  If  a  capitalist  wouldn't  take  his 
money  in  time  out  of  a  concern  that  was  failing,  but 
watched  his  dividend  growing  less,  and  did  nothing 
but  grumble  that  the  affair  was  not  made  to  be  pros- 
perous, whether  or  no,  would  you  pity  him  when  he 
was  ruined?  Not  you,  Miss — except  maybe  think- 
ing he  was  a  little  wrong  in  his  head.  That's  like 
the  working-men.  If  they  will  keep  their  labor  in 
work  that  isn't  wanted,  who's  to  help  em  ?  and   the 


2S8  OOI.Ii   AND    DROSS. 


same  if  they  will  keep  their  labor  where  it  is  not 
wanted.  They  say  it  is  hard  to  be  turned  away  from 
their  native  land.  So  it  is.  But  it's  hard  to  starve, 
only  if  they  choose  that  last  out  o'  the  two  chances, 
who's  to  help  it  ?  All  they've  got  to  do  is  to  find  out 
what  must  be  done,  and  do  it  and  hold  their  tongues 
about  it,  and  they'd  soon  discover  it's  the  best  hard- 
ship in  the  end.  I  don't  go  with  my  class  holding  up 
its  drawbacks.  There's  people,  chiefly  gentlemen 
who  can't  make  a  genteel  living  in  their  own  proper 
ways  (Tom  was  quite  innocent  of  personality  to  any 
member  of  the  party),  who  take  to  interesting  them- 
selves in  other  people's  livings.  They  find  out  the 
case  of  some  poor  half-skilled,  sottish  workman,  who 
is  glad  to  hire  himself  for  half-a-crown  a-day,  and 
may  be  that's  more  than  he's  worth.  Then  it  gets 
into  the  papers,  and  draws  a  lot  of  sympathy,  which 
means  that  it  makes  ]  eople  think  folks  of  that  trade 
are  a  poor  beggarly  lot ;  that  ought  to  go  down  on 
their  knees  with  thankfulness  for  three  shillings  a 
day,  and  every  now  and  then,  in  hard  times,  to  be 
glad  of  eighteen-pence.  But  I'm  talking  a  deal  too 
much.  Miss.  For  I  want  to  give  a  look  in  at  the 
little  place  I'm  fitting  up  to  live  in." 

Mr.  Fiske  left  with  Tom,  and  Elizabeth,  and 
Hester  retired  to  another  room  about  some  household 
business.     Dora  and  Philip  were  left  alone. 

■•  [s  it  notp'easant  to  find  that  there  is  still  poetry 
and  heroism  in  life  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  who  was  reflect- 
ing humbly  that  she  herself  had  hitherto  had  no  better 


A    PATENT   AND    A    FLUTE.  289 

insight  than  to  prefer  a  streak  of  bright  tinsel  to  a 
mine  of  richest  ore.  "  Why,  I  see  now  that  there  is  a 
spirit  in  which  emigration  is  as  grand  as  the  crusades  ! 
I  see  now  it  does  not  matter  what  one's  circumstances 
are,  but  if  one  stands  behind  and  rules  them,  one  is  a 
hero,  but  those  who  go  before  and  are  slavishly  pressed 
by  them,  are  only  "  dull  driven  cattle." 

"  How  easily  you  express  yourself!  "  said  Philip. 
There  was  something  of  the  sort  in  my  mind,  but  I 
could  not  have  said  it,  till  you  had  said  it  for  me." 

"  I  have  always  tried  '  to  say,' "  sighed  Dora, 
"rather  than  '  to  do  ; '  I'm  afraid.  One  can  soon  find 
words,  if  one  gives  one's  mind  to  search  for  them." 

"  But  what  made  you  give  your  mind  to  the  search, 
and  what  made  me  not  do  so  ? "  asked  Philip.  "  The 
difference  lies  there,  I  suspect.  I  don't  think  I  could 
ever  speak  myself  out — if  I  could  play,  I  think  I  could 
play  myself  out." 

"  Then  you  are  very  wicked  not  to  try  that,"  said 
Dora. 

Poor  Philip  looked  rather  shamefaced.  "  I  have 
tried,"  he  admitted.     But  I  can  only  play — horridly  !  " 

"You  cannot  judge  yourself  fairly."  Dora 
pleaded. 

Philip  turned  towards  his  bag. 

"  My  flute  is  there,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  shut  the  door 
and  play  softly,  and  you  will  tell  me  what  my  music 
says  ;  I  can  only  play  my  own  music.  I  cannot  follow 
notes  anywhere,  but  in  my  own  head.  1  never  play 
the  same  thing  twice." 

T3 


290  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 

He  began.  And  Dora,  very  calmly  attentive  at 
first,  presently  moved  nearer  to  him  and  looked  up 
raptly  in  his  face.  Twice  she  drew  a  long  breath 
like  one  struggling  :  once  she  sighed  :  just  once  she 
gave  a  little  laugh. 

"  You  must  not  go  on,"  she  burst  out  when  he 
paused.  "  You  have  told  me  more  already  than  I  can 
remember  to  repeat." 

"What  was  it  ?"  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"  First,  it  was  somebody  who  had  lost  himself  and 
he  did  not  know  it,  and  he  sang  as  he  went  along  and 
then  it  grew  dark,  and  a  storm  came  on.  And  the 
traveller  wandered  and  wandered  on.  And  then  the 
storm  was  over,  and  it  was  very  dark  and  still  and 
dreary.  And  the  traveller  was  so  tired  that  he  could 
go  no  further,  and  he  lay  down  to  die.  And  he  fell 
asleep.  And  while  he  slept,  angels  came  and  carried 
him  far  back  into  the  right  path.  And  he  awoke  and 
the  sun  was  shining,  and  his  own  home  was  in 
sight." 

"  Did  it  really  mean  all  that  ?  "  said  the  delighted 
Philip. 

"  Yes,  it  really  did,"  Dora  answered  ;  "  a  great 
deal  more  besides." 

"  I  have  not  been  playing  lately,  and  I  really  seem 
to  have  improved,  without  practice,"  observed  Philip. 

"  Angels  come  in  the  night  season,"  said  Dora  ; 
"  and  all  things  grow  out  of  sight." 

"  I  shall  like  to  play  to  you  again,"  was  Philip's 
happy  answer. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE   DAY   OF   THANKSGIVING. 


ESTER  felt  all  the  brighter  for  Tom  Mox- 
on's  homely  talk.  It  was  another  bit  of 
harmony  in  the  new  atmosphere  around  her. 
She  was  inclined  to  congratulate  Popps 
warmly,  both  on  her  lover  himself  and  his  good  for- 
tune.    Popps  seemed  rather  grave  and  doubtful. 

The  more  that  Hester  praised,  the  more  she  re- 
membered that  unlucky  bonnet  of  last  spring  and 
asked  herself  the  stinging  question  :  "  If  Tom  was 
fit  to  talk  to  the  likes  of  Miss  Hester,  was  such  as 
herself  fit  to  be  company  for  him  ?  The  little  house 
at  Islington  which  Tom  was  furnishing  so  sprucely, 
was  very  pleasant,  and  she  was  proud  of  it.  But  its 
image  was  not  yet  at  home  in  her  mind,  it  was  not  her 
old  dream  of  two  attics.  She  was  also  to  have  a  little 
maid  hired  to  keep  her  in  her  housework.  Poor 
Popps  !  She  was  losing  herself — her  own  rough  hard- 
working shrewd  identity.  There  is  a  great  deal  of 
sympathy  felt  for  those  who  fall  •  do  any  pity  those 
who  rise  ?  not  of  their  own  force,  but  drawn  upwards 


292  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


by  dear  hands,  which  seem  perhaps  to  grow  cold  in 
the  effort ! 

Hester  walked  out  alone  one  afternoon  two  or 
three  days  after  Moxon's  visit.  She  had  her  name 
down  oh  one  or  two  registries,  "  for  nursery  teaching," 
and  had  inserted  two  or  three  advertisements  in  dif- 
ferent newspapers.  But  nothing  had  come  her  way 
as  yet. 

But  this  afternoon  she  felt  hopeful.  She  went  to- 
wards the  West  End.  The  shops  were  bright  with  the 
approach  of  Christmas.  And  the  streets  were 
crowded  with  carriages  and  richly-dressed  ladies,  the 
value  of  one  of  whose  toilets  would  ransom  a  fellow- 
creature  from  starvation  for  a  year  !  But  Hester  did 
not  think  of  that  to-day.  Rather  she  noted  many  a 
worn  thin  face,  looking  wishfully  out  from  lace  and 
sealskin,  as  if  there  was  something  very  good  in  the 
world,  which  its  poor  wealthy  owner  had  missed. 
Hester  felt  bright  and  brave  and  so  healthily  free 
from  all  shadow  of  the  past,  that  she  was  sure,  had 
she  seen  an  announcement  of  "  Bot  makers  or  book- 
folders  wanted,"  she  might  have  gone  in  and  sought 
to  make  terms  for  her  instruction  and  subsequent  em- 
ployment in  these  humble  arts,  with  as  little  embar- 
rassment as  ever  she  had  found  in  the  purchase  of  a 
pair  of  gloves. 

But  there  seemed  to  be  no  such  notices  to-day. 
And  after  awhile  Hester  grew  weary  of  walking. 
She  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  Oxford  street  and  re- 


THE   DAY   OF   THANKSGIVING.  293 

membered  that  she  could  find  a  resting-place  in  one 
of  the  two  or  three  bazars  which  enliven  that  region. 

Hester  entered  the  nearest.  The  atmosphere 
was  rather  stifling  and  heavy  with  the  scent  that  was 
trickling  from  the  fountain  in  a  perfumer's  stand. 
The  first  rooms  were  very  crowded,  being  set  out  with 
the  trumpery  in  vogue  at  the  season.  Hester  pushed 
her  way  on  to  some  less  popular  department. 

She  found  it  presently  ;  a  long  low  gallery-like 
room,  little  more  than  the  top  landing  of  a  less 
frequented  stair-case.  It  had  a  great  window  at  one 
end,  whose  swinging  ventilator  kept  the  atmosphere 
light  and  pure  while  the  cheerful  fire  of  an  open 
grate  gave  out  a  more  genial  warmth  than  the  stoves 
in  the  other  part  of  the  building.  A  great  evergreen 
in  a  bright  red  pot  stood  on  the  window-sill.  And 
the  only  occupant  of  this  peaceful  retreat  was  a 
middle-aged  woman  sitting  sewing,  behind  a  wide 
counter,  well-stocked  with  every  conceivable  article 
of  household  napery  and  body-linen. 

She  looked  up  as  Hester  entered  and  took  a  seat 
on  an  empty  bench  near  the  fire.  But  even  in  that 
second's  pause  her  needle  went  on. 

She  was  a  wholesome-looking  woman  with  young 
brown  eyes,  and  thick  silver  hair,  scarcely  shaded  by 
a  small  frilled  net-cap,  with  open  lappets  that  drooped 
upon  her  shoulders.  Her  black  dress  made  scrupu- 
lously plain,  was  of  some  fine  serviceable  material, 
and  on  her  left  hand  she  wore  a  ring ;  Hester  did  not 
think  it  was  a  wedding-ring. 


294  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


Hester  could  not  help  watching  her — with  some 
vague  thought  of  the  good  godmothers  of  fairy-fiction 
— she  seemed  to  work  to  music.  There  was  some- 
thing rhythmic  in  her  movements.  And  over  her  face 
the  while,  there  flickered  such  an  expression  as  might 
have  been  looked  for  had  she  been  carrying  on  a 
pleasant  talk  with  somebody  out  of  sight. 

Should  she  speak  to  her  ?  should  she  ask  counsel 
of  this  working- woman,  an  utter  stranger  ?  Perhaps 
she  could  understand  and  advise.  Hester  looked  at 
her  again  ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  among  the  many 
lights  which  passed  over  that  happy  face,  the  moon- 
light of  sorrow  had  been  there,  and  the  starlight  of 
patience  was  there  always,  although  unseen  when  the 
sunshine  of  peace  broke  out  in  smiles — Hester's  mind 
was  made  up. 

She  rose  and  crossed  to  the  counter. 

"  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  if  you  have  any  work  to 
give,  or  if  you  know  any  body  who  has ;  I  want  work 
very  much." 

The  other  stopped  in  her  sewing  and  looked  at 
Hester — a  look  which  could  not  have  been  so  kindly 
had  it  been  less  shrewd  and  searching. 

"  You  want  it  for  yourself?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  wanted  some  for  a  long  time." 

"  And  do  you  want  it  earnestly  as  men  want  work  ; 
to  earn  money,  to  live,  or  do  you  want  it  for  an  excite- 
ment and  a  few  spare  shillings  to  buy  a  new  bonnet 
when  you  like  ?  " 

These  questions  came  with  a  smile. 


THE   DAY   OF   THANKSGIVING.  295 

"  To  earn  money  to  live,"  said  Hester ;  and  tears 
would  crowd  into  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  as  I  dare  say  you  are  tired  and  it 
is  awkward  to  speak  across  this  table,  will  you  just 
lift  up  that  bar  by  your  right  hand,  and  step  inside. 
There  is  a  chair  beside  me  and  then  we  shall  talk  com- 
fortably." 

"  Now,  my  child,"  she  said,  as  Hester  took  the 
place  indicated ;  "  I  shall  perhaps  be  able  to  serve 
you.  I  cannot  tell  yet,  that  will  rest  as  much  with  you 
as  with  me.  But  you  must  not  mind  telling  me  about 
yourself  and  what  you  want  to  do,  and  what  you  can 
do  ;  your  name  is  ?  " — 

"  Hester  Capel ;  I  am  an  orphan.  What  I  want  to 
do  is  to  keep  myself  and  to  help  my  eldest  sister. 
Not  that  she  could  not  keep  herself,"  said  Hester,  look- 
ing confidingly  into  those  young  brown  eyes.  "  Only 
we  have  been  always  together,  and  she  likes  house- 
keeping and  dressmaking  and  doing  all  sorts  of  little 
things  among  oneselves.  She  would  help  out  any- 
thing I  could  earn,  she  added,  "  so  my  help  in  return 
would  be  only  fair." 

Hester  wondered  at  herself  she  felt  so  childlike. 
She  could  not  have  been  so  simple,  frank  even  yester- 
day. 

"  You  are  right.  That  is  the  happiest  plan  for 
working-women.  When  men  say  that  -women's  work 
should  be  cheaper  than  men's,  because  they  have  no- 
body to  keep,  they  are  very  silly  ;  women  who  work 
should  have  somebody  to  keep,   women   who   work 


296  GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


generally  do.     And  have  you  any  more  family  besides 
this  dear  sister  ;   other  sisters  or  brothers  ?  " 

"  One  sister." 

"  Living  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  poor  Hester. 

"  Married  ?  " 

"  Lost,"  said  Hester,  quietly. 

"  Lost,"  echoed  the  kind  voice ;  "  poor,  poor 
thing :  Then  she  was  not  like  you.  What  sad  differ- 
ences there  are  in  families,  to  be  sure  !  Now  to  busi- 
ness. Plain  work  is  not  well  paid.  You  could  not 
make  such  a  living  as  you  require  from  that.  I  am 
doing  some,  you  see,  only  because  I  am  fond  of  plain 
work.  It  makes  me  feel  happy.  But  do  you  under- 
stand French  ? " 

I  can  read  and  write  it,"  said  Hester  ;  "  I  could 
not  converse   in   it." 

"For  what  I  now  have  in  my  mind  that  would 
not  be  required.     Are  you  a  good  correspondent  ?  " 

Hester  said  she  believed  she  was,  and  a  tolerably 
fair  accountant,  though  no  bookkeeper. 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  go  to  King's  Road,  Chel- 
sea, for  three  hours  every  day,  for  forty  pounds  a  year, 
to  make  yourself  generally  useful  in  such  ways  as  my 
last  questions  have  suggested  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  ever  so  willing,"  said  poor  Hester. 

"  You  would  also  be  able  to  take  home  as  much 
needle-work  as  you  would  like  for  yourself— and  your 
sister — chiefly  in  fulfilment  of  special  orders  and 
therefore  well   paid.     So   that  between  you,  without 


THE    DAY    OF  THANKSGIVING.  297 


killing  yourselves,  I  think  you  might  easily  raise  the 
forty  pounds  to  eighty  or  ninety.  The  counting-house 
salary  may  rise  in  proportion  to  the  business  and  the 
value  of  your  services.  So  that  it  may  ultimately  re- 
quire your  whole  time ;  would  you  be  inclined  to  con- 
sider such  an  offer  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  need  any  consideration,"  said  Hester, 
trembling  with  delight. 

The   young    brown    eyes,  and    the   firm    sensible 
mouth  smiled  in  union  ;  "  perhaps  not,"  said  their  own- 
er.    "  Well,  I  am  an  agent  for  Melville  and  Co,  of  the 
King's  Road,  ladies  outfitters  (Hester  had   never  no- 
ticed the  name  of  the  establishment,  where  she  had  so 
sadly  applied  in  vain  for  work),  young  Mr.  Melville 
has  been  very  naturally  struck  with  some  of  the  injus- 
tices of  female  employment.     His  business  has  thrown 
him   very  much   in  the  way  of  women  wanting  work. 
He  cannot  see  why  women  should  be  allowed  to  serve 
behind  the  counter,  but  not  behind  the  desk,  why  they 
should  always  do  the  underpaid  and  harder  work.  He 
spoke   to  me  about  it.     I   knew  him  when   he  was  a 
child,  and  he  has  confidence  in  me.     And   the  result 
was,  that  we  arranged  that  I  should  look  out  for  a 
young  lady  fitted  for  the  post  I  have  named  to  you,  and 
engage  her  in  his  name.     You  will  only  have  to  send 
in  your  references,  and  he  will  write  and  tell  you  when 
you  are  to  commence  work. 

"  My    own  name  is  Helen  Oakshaw,"  and  as  she 
looked  at  the  card  on  which  Hester  had  been  writing  out 
her  own  name  and  address,  she  added;  '•  So  you  live 
.      13* 


298      ,  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

in  Clerkenwell;  I  lived  there  once — long,  long,  ago." 
And  for  a  moment  the  starlight  in  her  face  was  very 
soft  and  tender,  and  then  the  sun  shone  out,  almost 
brighter  than  before,  as  she  went  on.  "  You  are  just 
beginning.  You  cannot  think  what  peace  and  bless- 
ing there  are  in  a  quiet  life  of  labor." 

"Did  you  once  attend  a  stall  in  the  Pantheon?" 
asked  Hester,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  why  do  you  ask?"  said  Miss  Oakshew,  look- 
ing up,  surprised. 

Hester  was  half  sorry  for  her  inadvertent  inquiry 
and  faltered  out :  "  I  fancied  I  had  heard  of  you — 
although  I  did  not  know  your  name.  Do  you  know, 
the  name  of  Fiske  ?  " 

"  Fiske  !  Yes,  (very  softly.)  It  was  the  name  of  a 
young  gentleman  in  the  office  with — somebody  I  was 
going  to  marry  !  " 

"  Mr.    Richard  Wriksworth,"  said  Hester,  gently. 

There  came  no  tear  to  Helen  Oakshew's  eye. 
Only  a  smile,  with  pathos  beyond  tears.  "That  was 
his  name,"  she  answered.  "  I  wonder  what  they  call 
him  now — " 

"  How  sad  it  was  for  you  who  loved  so  much," 
Hester  murmured,  tenderly  ;  "and  are  you  all  alone 
now  ? " 

"  Never  alone  !  "  she  said,  brightly.  "  His  love  is 
always  around  me,  safe  under  God's  own  love.  Why, 
he  gave  me  that  on  my  last  birthday,"  and  she  pointed 
to  a  tiny  coral  brooch  which  clasped  her  collar;  "with 
a  little  of  the  interest  from  the  money  my  darling  left 


THE    DAY    OF    THANKSGIVING.  299 


me,  I  always  buy  something  such  as  he  would  have 
given  me  himself.  They  are  his  gifts  still,  you  know ; 
I  don't  talk  about  this  to  many  people,  my  dear,  for 
they  would  think  me  crazy.  But — I  feel  that  you  will 
understand,  and  with  the  rest  of  the  interest — I  help 
people  who  want  help.  That  makes  them  to  be 
Richard's  friends,  you  know,  and  I  love  them  better 
for  his  sake,  and  have  more  patience  with  them. 

So  they  parted.  Hester  almost  flew  along  the 
streets  of  her  homeward  way.  More  than  one  passer- 
by turned  and  looked  after  her.  Just  as  she  came 
within  sight  of  home,  Popps  overtook  her,  breathless 
and  delighted.  She  and  Tom  had  just  been  looking 
over  their  new  habitation. 

"  It's  real  pretty  ! "  Popps  panted  ;  "  and  while  I 
was  just  a'  thinking  whether  it  wasn't  a  deal  too  good 
for  me,  says  Tom,  says  he  '  Oh  Bess,  what  a  blessing 
it  is  to  be  with  somebody  like  you  that  knows  all 
about  everything,  and  isn't  watching  to  hear  if  you 
stick  in  an  extra  h,  or  make  a  hole  in  your  grammar,' 
an'  I  think  I'll  never  fret  again  that  Tom  ain't  satis- 
fied with  me,  for  if  he  liked  me  a  fine  lady  one  while 
may  be  he'd  wish  old  Popps  back  again  another,  and 
you'll  always  tell  me  about  the  right  colors  and  like 
won't  you,  Miss,  though  why  blue  and  green  together 
isn't  reckoned  pretty  I  never  can  tell,  since  God  puts 
'em  together  in  His  blessed  flowers,  and  in  the  trees 
and  skies.  Also  Tom  and  me  have  been  a  huntin' 
after  Mrs.  Edwardes  ;  we  wanted  her  too  in  our  house 
till — the  day,  Miss."     But  we  can't  find  her — what  a 


3°° 


GOLD    AND    DROSS. 


hole  she  did  live  in,  to  be  sure  !  Nobody  could  tell 
us  where  she'd  gone,  she  just  took  off  her  bundle  and 
went,  they  said.  There  was  more  than  seemed  in 
that  Mrs.  Edwardes.  I'll  be  bound,  I  always  thought 
she  had  something  on  her  mind,  though  she  was  a 
decent  woman  in  her  way,  too.  She  always  seemed  to 
have  such  respect  for  all  of  you,  that  I  wonder  she 
did  not  let  us  know  where  she  was.  Like  her  in- 
prudence  ;  giving  up  chance  o'  good  work  so  easy !" 

Not  many  days  afterwards  as  Hester  was  return- 
ing from  the  final  ratification  of  her  engagement  as 
clerk  and  correspondent  to  Mr.  Andrew  Melville  of 
King's  Road,  she  went  a  little  out  of  her  way  to  stand 
once  more  under  the  trees  of  Cheyne  walk. 

Bare  and  leafless  were  those  trees  now  under  a 
dull  wintry  sky !  But  there  was  sunshine  in  Hester's 
heart ;  God  had  sent  his  little  human  sparrow  to  be 
her  crumb  of  joy  and  comfort ;  would  she  ever  again 
so  faithlessly  pay  for  sorrow  in  advance  ?  Oh,  into  what 
hard  and  unworthy  doubts  had  her  weak  fears  betray- 
ed her  !  She  had  trembled  more  than  she  had  trusted, 
because  she  had  thought  less  of  God  than  of  herself. 
Down  in  the  very  heart  of  her  despair,  her  enlightened 
sense  now  saw  the  idol  that  had  seemed  most  hateful 
to  her ;  even  the  ugly  image  of  self — with  a  burst  of 
thankful  tears  she  owned  the  guiding  Hand  that  had 
led  her  safely  on,  though,  like  a  wilful  child,  she  had 
made  the  way  very  hard  for  herself,  and  as  one  beau- 
tiful blighted  figure  rose  upon  her  memory,  it  was 
with  the  sorrowfully  sincere  ejaculation.  There,  but 
;or  the  grace  of  God,  is  Hester  Capel ! " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


CONCLUSION. 

'  Be  quiet,  take  things  as  they  come, 
Each  hour  will  draw  out  some  surprise. 
With  blessing  let  the  days  go  home, 
Thou  shalt  have  thanks  from  evening  skies." 

R.  Lytton. 

HAT  is  there  to  tell  about  quiet  years  of 
happy  and  prosperous  labor,  undisturbed  by 
any  undisciplined  heart's  impatient  ques- 
tion, "  what  next  ? " 
The  world  went  on.  People  got  married.  Tom 
Moxon  and  his  wife  had  children  and  flourished  and 
rose  in  the  world.  Lizzie  and  Hester  who  went  into 
no  society,  were  presently  obliged  to  keep  black-silk 
dresses  of  suitable  fashion,  not  to  disgrace  the  little 
parties  where  celebrated  authors  and  artists,  and 
now  and  then  a  stray  noble,  came  to  do  honor  to  a 
great  Inventor  who  had  once  been  a  working-man. 
At  first  these  people  pronounced  Mrs.  Moxon  to  be 
very  shy  and  and  nervous  (what  a  kind  word  "  ner- 
vous" is  ?)     But  that  presently  wore  off  and  then  they 


302  GOLD   AND    DROSS. 


found  her  charmingly  "original,"  and  "quite  a  char- 
acter." She  learned  something  like  good  English — 
as  she  had  once  learned  bad — by  constantly  hearing 
it  spoken — and  if  a  homely  domestic  metaphor  would 
sometimes  start  into  her  conversation,  why  it  only 
imparted  a  piquant  salt.  And  if  any  of  her  grand 
visitors  were  ill-bred  enough  to  patronize  and  laugh 
at  her  behind  her  back,  it  might  be  well  for.  them  to 
know  that  she  could  too  well  make  observations,  and 
ask  very  difficult  questions,  though  her  good  feeling 
kept  her  from  doing  so,  to  anybody  except  her  "  Mr. 
Moxon"  or  her  dear  "  ladies"  the  Misses  Capel. 

And  Philip  Lewis  was  also  married  and  prosper- 
ous. Hester  was  soon  relieved  from  her  fears  and 
regrets  for  him  ;  who  did  he  marry?  He  married 
Dora.  He  plays  on  the  flute  every  night,  when  they 
have  no  visitors,  also,  he  will  sometimes  play  for  other 
people  besides  Dora.  Competent  judges  say  that  his 
music  is  very  sweet  and  wonderful,  and  he  delights  to 
tell  them  how  he  had  longed  for  this  power,  and  how 
it  came  to  him  when  he  had  lost  all  hope  of  it,  and 
had  given  up  practicing.  There  is  a  shadow  on  his 
face  sometimes  as  he  recounts  this  ;  but  it  is  always 
gone  before  he  has  finished.  And  this  is  the  only 
sign  of  his  great  sorrow,  for  as  a  faithful  historian,  we 
regret  to  relate  he  soon  grew  as  dogmatic  and  self- 
satisfied  as  ever,  and  neither  better  nor  worse  for  the 
storms  that  had  passed  over  him. 

Years  and  years  passed  by.  Philip  and  Dora, 
and    Tom    and     Bessie    were    old    in    married    life. 


CONCLUSION.  303 


Anthony  Fiske  grew  a  gray-headed  and  spectacled 
man  ;  who  got  his  living  as  a  law-writer  and  taught  an 
infant-class  in  a  Sabbath-school.  Lizzie  and  Hester 
had  long  since  gone  to  reside  with  their  dear  friend 
Helen  Oakshew.  Anthony  Fiske  regularly  supplied 
them  with  a  newspaper  to  beguile  their  evening  leisure. 
But  one  day  he  failed  to  do  so.  He  made  some 
excuse  next  evening,  and  they  never  saw  the  missed 
journal,  or  they  would  have  read,  how,  one  stormy 
autumn  night  a  policeman  stumbled  over  something 
on  the  dark  pavement  of  the  wild  East-End  of  London. 
Only  a  woman ;  she  could  not  move  ;  she  could  not 
answer  him.  Only  when  he  tried  to  lift  her,  he  heard 
her  murmur  : 

"  Oh,  Syb — don't  you  wish  you  were  safe  at  home 
again !  "  K 

And  fell  back  dead  ! 

They  would  have  read  of  the  sad  sisterhood  who 
crept  from  their  foul  dens  to  tell  the  history  of  the 
dead. 

"  She  was  one  of  us  too.  She  had  been  a  lady 
brought  up,  but  she  was  an  awful  violent  woman,  and 
a  dreadful  drunkard.  She  was  better  off  when  we  first 
knew  her,  and  had  good  clothes  and  furniture,  and 
used  to  be  called  "  my  Lady,"  and  the  Countess, 
because  of  her  finery.  She  used  so  many  names,  we 
don't  know  whether  we  ever  heard  the  real  one — Never 
heard  speak  of  her  family — Never  knew  of  any  friends 
of  her's — except  — perhaps,  one  elderly  woman.  She 
was  always  after  the   Countess,  wanting  her  to  leave 


304  GOLD   AND   DROSS. 

her  ways  of  life.  Sometimes  she  did  for  a  little  while, 
and  then  this  woman  used  to  take  her  into  her  room, 
and  find  work  for  her.  but  the  Countess  always  soon 
tired  of  that,  and  came  back  to  us.  This  woman  always 
managed  to  live  near  the  Countess.  We  used  to  think 
she  was  wrong  in  her  head.  Some  people  said  she 
was  the  Countess'  mother.  She  was  an  awful  ghostly 
figure — I've  seen  the  Countess  look  like  her  when  in  a 
faint.  The  woman's  name  was  Edwardes.  Do  we 
know  where  to  find  her,  Sir  ?  Lor,  Sir ;  she  died 
months  ago,  and  was  buried  by  the  parish." 

When  God  preaches  his  sermons  and  points  his 
morals  in  hard  fact ;  people  say  the  language,  and 
especially  the  illustration  is  too  coarse  for  their  pe- 
rusal. And  so  those  good  women  in  their  quiet  su- 
burban home,  never  dream  of  the  evil  shadow,  that  a 
friendly  hand  averted  from  their  path  that  day  !  And 
Lizzie  still  ponders  on  a  possible  journey  to  a  lonely 
grave  in  the  Protestant  Churchyard  of  Ligney,  but 
begins  to  shrink  from  the  railway  travelling,  and  to  feel 
that  Heaven  is  nearer  than  that  far-off  shore.  And 
Hester  still  prays  for  Sibyl,  and  sometimes  goes  out 
in  the  darkness,  and  looks,  and  looks,  for  the  face  she 
will  never  see  again. 

No  marriage — No  love  ?  Who  shall  say  that  ? 
Some  people  can  keep  secrets  almost  from  themselves. 
But  anyhow  Hester  is  a  happy  woman.  People  say, 
with  a  playfulness  that  only  half  disguises  truth,  "  that 
they  fall  in  love  with  her — why  did  not  somebody 
marry  her  ?   or  why  didn't  she  marry  somebody  ?  " 


CONCLUSION.  305 


Dora  (who  writes  a  very  pathetic  song  now  and 
then,  but  who  has  grown  a  very  merry  little  woman), 
declares  that  she  thinks  Mr.  Andrew  Melville  calls 
upon  her  cousins  a  great  deal  too  often.  Dora  is  too 
wise  now  to  despise  the  college-student  who  became 
a  tradesman,  because  he  was  a  dutiful  son  and  a  just 
brother.  Dora  knows  that  her  cousin  Hester  honors 
and  admires  him  heartily  ;  and  to  love  and  obey,  follow 
easily  after  that,  says  the  contented  young  matron 
to  her  spouse  ;  and  presently  asks  Philip  if  he  cannot 
strike  out  a  new  idea  in  the  way  of  a"  rational  and 
original  wedding-present?" 


THE  END. 


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